


The Colors Before a Crash

by Alice_Celestian



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Bakura is big gay, Burlesque, Dark Comedy, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Literally all she does is panic, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_Celestian/pseuds/Alice_Celestian
Summary: A defamed Opera singer, Bakura lives her monotone life in grey."Isolation is a silent pill of insanity. Live life. You're 24, go out and explore.”And as soon as she does, Bakura finds herself face-first down the rabbit hole of the eccentric, charming Mademoiselle Ishtar. Being taken under the burlesque dancer's wing, she realizes how crazily colorful the world can be.Illustrated!





	1. White

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmopoeicpower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmopoeicpower/gifts).



> Whelp, here's more fem thieves. I used to be really into the 1920s and seeing Cosmopoeicpower's art, that passion was rekindled. Her au is different so I highly suggest checking her out on Tumblr!  
> Any modern songs referenced are by Post Modern Jukebox. I.E: You give love a bad name & Material Girl

* * *

1924

Bakura knew these streets. She knew them before the war and after them it was the same. People seemed more…confident. Victory changed America. Wealth changed America. Money actually grew off trees and it empowered people. It was the promised land.

It wasn’t hers though. England wasn’t the empire of kings anymore. Unemployment was higher than her hemline. That was a problem she would not bother with. England and her split as soon as the war started. There was no one to entertain over there except the rich bastards who avoided the draft. She didn’t sing for them, they were so proud of themselves for the wealth of mummy and daddy. She wouldn't lower her standards for a chunk of change she couldn't enjoy due to rations.

This was better, she'd gain money here and once the unemployment crisis is over, she'd return to the opera house. Though she quite liked this Jazz stuff that the Americans thought up. It was so exciting. So upbeat. She wouldn’t sing it though. It was for a happier woman than she.

The club reared its head just beyond. The usual crowd stood outside.

“Ey, songbird!” the usual cry hit her as she turned the corner.

She rolled her eyes, “Boys. How the hell ya been!”

“Sober, definitely.” The men joked. They reeked of a home concocted brew. That damned moonshine. It tasted far worse than it smelled, one sip had her under the table.

“Smells that way.” She pinched her nose, “Prohibition can’t keep you fellas down, huh?”

They laughed. These blokes were nothing but a mob of gin drinking blockheads. Their only virtue was their taste in music. Luckily for her, it profited her well in these trying times.

Bakura scoffed, “I gotta go get ready, sailors.” Their attention however was diverted to another gal. “Come inside after you stop harassing lovely ladies. I sing at 9.”

They seemed to hear her offense, “We only cat call em out of sheer respect and honor! How else would they know they’re the bee's knees!”

“Or the cat's miaow!”

“Or the leopard's stripes!”

She knocked the idiot over the head with her purse, “That's a tiger, bimbo! Lay off the booze!”

The guys had a riot over that. She had enough of these dumbasses and kept it moving. She entered the dark, quiet cabaret and went straight to the backroom. After four months here, she was quite accustomed to the layout, no matter how dark. And dark it was in a city without stars. She slept all day, sang all night. It seemed to be what everyone was doing. Only coming alive in the dark of night.

Bakura grabbed the cold brass handle of the door, “Yugi?”

The short man looked up from his scale model of the empire state building, “Bakura! Lovely, lovely! I’m just working on my new project. Feel free to get ready upstairs.” He was busy, she could tell he was in his element. She would not bother the man then.

“Ryou serving tonight?”

“No. He wants to see a show in Harlem. A big shot dancer is performing. You might want to see it.”

“You know, I don’t like floundering about. I’d ask the men outside to bed if I wanted to see someone stumble about.”

Yugi took his seeing glasses off, “You should get out more. Here, Ryou gave me a ticket and I would love for you to go.”

“Why!” Bakura hated going out with a passion. She wanted to sit at home and listen to the British station on her radio whilst petting Queen Victoria, her cat.

“You'll drive yourself mad with all that time in your tiny apartment.” He sat down his tools, “I know you think you are fine. Isolation is a silent pill of insanity. Live life. You're 24, go out and explore.”

“I will explore the universe in my own time, thanks. I’m going to get ready.”

His hand extended with the ticket, “You might enjoy yourself.”

“Hmph, that's like hoping for a gal who'll close her legs when you're gone. See you in a few, baby face.”

She turned around.

Something ate away at her. Maybe the truth of his preachy words. She sighed, turning back. She snatched the ticket, “I won't thank you. I don't want to go.”

“I know.” He smiled.

She loved this little cherub. With that, she went upstairs to prepare for the show.

* * *

The spotlight softly fell on her. It was warm and comfortable. Her black, jeweled dress glimmered and shone. She sung into the mic, it's circular design was large and she preferred it to beside her than in front so the audience could see her.

She snapped, tapping her foot with the band. She looked into the crowd. Whistles responded.

She held the mic closer, lowly singing, "An angel's smile is what you sell, promise me heaven then put me through hell". She smirked, earning cheers and approval from the audience. The song was easy enough to sing but this time she wanted to change it up a bit.

She was ready to sell it, “You give love suuuuch a bad Name!” She hit her highest note. The woman held her body then threw her arms in victory as she finished.

Per usual, the crowd was eating in like hotcakes! She bowed and strode off stage. This scene was starting to bore her. The same faces, same applause, same songs. Everything in her life was mundane, routine. Nothing sparked an interest.

She walked to the steps to the second floor, rushing up them.

“Don’t forget the show!” Yugi cried, after her.

She forgot. Ugh.

“Fine!” She screamed.

She grabbed her bag, and ran behind the changing wall in the living room.

“Bakura? Done, huh? You seem to be in a rush.”

Gramps was sitting in his recliner, reading a newspaper, “What, geezer! Scram!” She stripped down to her knickers.

“How about you give a dying man a peek into heaven?”

“Peek behind his curtain and you'll see heaven sooner than planned.” She threatened him. Bakura knew his advances were idle.

Old Solomon just chuckled in his gruffly aged voice, “It says quite a lot about your character that you won't fulfill a dying man's wish.”

She scoffed, “It says a lot about your character that you chase tail after all this time.” She pulled her casual dress on, nothing special just comfortable. She tugged her long white hair in a braid and put on her cloche. “Is it raining, gramps?” She asked, checking herself in the mirror behind her.

“When isn’t it.”

Bakura sighed, might as well been in England.

She pulled out her compact mirror. Her stage makeup still looked good. She could wear it out.

“I’m off, old man.”

“So soon? Give grandpa a kiss then.”

“Nice try.” She grabbed her suitcase, “I'd rather lock lips with a spittoon.”

She descended the stairs, walking around the perimeter of the floor. The band played without her and a later act would arrive soon. She stopped by the former bar. “Yugi, a shot for my troubles. My nerves are getting me.”

“I can't just take it out willy nilly! This isn't a speakeasy.”

Bakura sighed, “Fine, you wurp. Don’t miss me too dearly.”

“Not a problem.”

Ignoring that, despite the nagging in her head to argue, she left to hail a taxi. She lifted her hand at a nearby yellow car. She entered without much thought, reading of the address from the ticket for the driver.

“Harlem? Are you kidding me!”

Harlem had a bad reputation. Bakura had never been there but the drunks called it the Darker Side of Town. She knew that's where the blacks lived but knew nothing more than it was high in crime. She didn't have many possessions on her that looked expensive so she assumed they'd leave her alone.

“I'm paying you so shut up and drive!”

Honestly speaking, she hadn't come across many black folk. They sat in different areas of restaurants and buses. They mostly stayed to themselves in their communities. From what she heard they only ventured out to steal. Was this a good idea? It was almost like she was entering the den of thieves. Ryou was there already. Had he been there before? Was he fine despite the danger?

The only answers she could receive were there in Harlem.

* * *

She exited the car to a new place. It was nothing like she expected. She expected poverty and filth yet what she saw was women and men dressed for a party that may or may not exist. Their brown skin was an afterthought compared to the styles they wore. Bakura never saw such interesting outfits. The streets were littered but with laughter instead of trash. These people were so alive, so colorful.

How could anyone look down on this place?

She walked down the street to the venue.

“Are you lost, missus?”

She looked at the large black man at the door. His scar down his face struck her. A thug? She clutched her bag.

“I'm merely seeing a show, no funny business.” She threatened.

“Oh, Mademoiselle Ishtar? It's right this way. I'm just her bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?”

“Yes. She is highly sought after for better or worse. Actually,” He looked her over suspiciously, “Can I see your ticket?”

She removed it from her pocket, handing it to him.

“How did you get this?”

It seemed like genuine curiosity.

“My friend told me I should come. He is inside.”

“Ryou? Is he your friend?” She nodded, making him sigh in relief, “Good. He's a decent guy. He never started trouble like the other ones. Please forgive my suspicions, you are welcome here.”

“Who causes trouble?”

The large man shrugged, “We got a few white folk that came in and harassed our customers and performers. Yelled some really cruel things, trashed the place. We started making tickets to lessen to occurrence. They won't waste their money on us.”

“I understand your suspicions. I’m just here to enjoy the show.”

“Please do.” He opened the door for her.

Bakura nodded in thanks and entered. A sound like never before hit her. It was loud and exhilarating. It made her want to move but she resisted to not make a fool of herself. As she looked, bodies were dancing in the most spectacular fashion. She had never seen something like that.

“What are you standing there for?”

She whipped around to Ryou's big eyes coyly staring at her. He was dressed as snazzy as the rest of them. There was a black girl on his arm, smiling gently at her.

“Meet Ishizu. She owns this joint.”

They shook hands. She was a lot less bright than everyone, probably because this was business for her. There was a frail sense about her. Bakura presumed that was only her exterior because her eyes spoke of a wild passion.

“I’ve heard about your singing. It's an honor to have you here.”

“Just here for a good time.”

“Mademoiselle Ishtar is about to start her act. I’m sure you’ll like it. Excuse me, however, I have to introduce her.” She quietly evaporated into the crowd of gyrating bodies.

“This is where you go?”

He looked excited to answer that, “Yes, ma’am! I love it down here. It’s so much fun.”

“Don’t you get wary of the constant danger?”

“Oh please, there’s much more danger in Manhattan than here. This place isn’t what they told you.” He explained.

Before Bakura could question, a bell rung. The crowd promptly returned to their seats. Ryou led his friend to his table.

“Evening, we have a guest performer showcasing her world renowned rhythm. Let’s give her a warm welcome. Mademoiselle Ishtar!”

Bakura felt very bothered in her chest as the woman took the stage. Her smooth long legs stirred a flurry in her. The brown skin clad in white though there was not much of it due to the sheer lack of clothing. Bakura had never seen a woman in such a sparkly…brassiere. Hell, she had not seen a woman so well endowed in years with the current flat chest craze. Not that she had seen many so curved in a scandalous manner. This Mademoiselle Ishtar could put the Queen of Sheba to shame.

“Good evening.” Her red lips poured out honey-like words. There was a sensual manner about her in general, ignoring her attire. Her blonde hair fell gently over her bust as she brushed it from her face, “I sure do hope you enjoy this performance.” Her accent was quite interesting. It was French but…something else too.

That gorgeous woman started her song, bopping as the music played. Her voice was sweet and bird like. It was sweet and beautiful. Her song was a vain one, she encompassed these years perfectly. She was jaded.

Her feet twisted and turned, they kicked in a fun way and she spun around, jewels glimmering in the spotlight. She was passed a trombone and went to town on the brass. Bakura stared in awe and delight! It was electrifying enough yet when she jumped over onto the mat and tap danced, the crowd went wild. Beside herself, she cheered and hollered along too.

“We live, yea I know we live in a material world and I’m a material gal!” She once again played her trombone in a killer solo. Afterwards she was dancing again feet moving faster than Bakura could comprehend.

“I’m a material girl!” She bowed, curtain closing.

What was this feeling?

“You’re feeling it, huh?” Ryou was still wearing that smug look.

She scoffed, “What exactly?”

“Don’t pretend when you look like you just ran a marathon.” He lit his cigarette stuck between his bony fingers, “Want to meet her?”

“For what?”

“A quick hello. Nothing quite as scandalous as most would assume with a girl like her.” He took a long drag, “Shame really? Aren’t you interested if your assumptions are even close to the truth?”

Bakura was enraptured by the performance more so the woman. She sung like a fun loving girl. A regular flapper, if you asked her. Was there more than what meets the eyes?

“I’ll go.”

He stood up wordlessly. She followed him through the tables, into the hallway, offside the audience. He went to the last room of the hall, knocking politely.

“Who is it?”

“Your one true love, my dearest.”

The door opened, Mademoiselle Ishtar stood in a silk robe, the parameter covered in feathers, “Monseigneur, how I’ve longed for your return! Please feel free to bend me over any surface to celebrate.”

“Maybe later. We have a guest.”

She held out her dainty hand. As Bakura shook it, she was pulled forward. A kiss planted on her cheek then bloomed in her chest.

“Oh my. We have a blusher!” she laughed, teasingly, “Come sit down!” The woman sat down on her loveseat, coyly patting the spot next to her.

Bakura sat in the very corner of the couch.

“So this your sister, Ryou?”

“No, cousin.” He quickly adds, “She sings.”

“Sing huh? What’s your poison, songbird?”

Ryou translated that she meant her preferred genre.

“Classic. I sing opera.”

“What a drab gig. That can’t be much fun.” She pulled over her decorated box and opened it to grab a cigarette. She motioned her offering to which Bakura obliged.

“It is not so exciting as it is fanciful.”

“What else do you do?”

She felt a bit irritated, “Nothing.” She noticed her emotions got the better of her, the cigarette was now bent.

“No other talents or hobbies?”

“Nothing.” Goodness, she was very boring when spoken aloud. She knew there wasn’t much in her life right now but was she even living at this point. Only her cat and her radio brought her solace.

Mademoiselle Ishtar tapped her finger on her breast in thought, “Oh…how about I teach you to dance?”

Bakura was a bit shocked at the suggestion, “Me? Dancing? Are you blind?”

“What?”

“I couldn’t possibly dance like that!”

The blonde scoffed, “Why not? If I’m teaching you, you’ll do the same as I did.”

“I am not you, it wouldn't be the same.”

“Do you not want to dance?”

Bakura shook her head, “That’s not the problem. I do but-"

“Then it is not a problem. You will dance then. Tomorrow I’m free.”

Was she even listening!

“I’m not black, I can’t dance like that!”

Mademoiselle raised her brow, “Are you stupid?”

“Only black people dance like that. Where would I even use those dances if no white people do them?”

“If I teach you a black dance, it will still remain a black dance no matter what race does it. You cannot dull it’s value by adding white. It will stay black and it will stay here. These dances will never venture to your neighborhood because they are too colored. But if we keep it here in Harlem where it belongs, there’s no problem. The only question is are you willing to abandon your fears enough for me to teach you.” She lit her own cigarette then motioned to a flustered Bakura, “Won’t you let me?”

“The smoke or the lessons?”

“Either. I know you want both.” She lit her cigarette. Up she went, heels clicking on the wooden floor. Bakura looked away, her robe was not as long as previously thought.

“Ryou, darling, fetch Uto.” The bronze goddess commanded.

Said man stood up, walking to the other end of the room.

“Do you like pets, honey?”

“I have a cat. Her name is Queen Victoria.”

“Named after a tyrant.”

“It fits her.”

The woman laughed, “God save the queen, I suppose.” She brought back a bottle of wine, “You drink, right?”

“I did quite often before prohibition. Now it’s on occasion.”

Mademoiselle sat closer to her than before, “Let’s make this a special occasion.”

Mademoiselle Ishtar was quite mysterious, gorgeous and sultry. Hell, she was a priceless jewel stuck in this shithole. She should’ve been on grander stages in front of thousands. Why wasn’t she? That was the true mystery.

“Uto, there you are, baby!”

Bakura blinked out of her trance only to wish she was back in it, “Is that-" She scattered backwards, falling from the couch.

Mademoiselle glared at her, “You’ll hurt his feelings, he is sensitive.” She kissed her serpent on the head, it’s forked tongue kissed back, “Say hi, Uto. He’s bashful today.”

Bakura was ready to go. This was too much. Far too much, “Ryou, I hope you drove, we’re leaving.”

The girl pouted, “We haven’t even opened the bottle.” She stood up, snake around her shoulders, “Come, come.” She grabbed Bakura by her collar and dragged her back to the couch.

What monster strength!

“It’s time to go!” She said again hoping Ryou would do something!

The diva straddled her, sitting her ass on her lap, “There now you can’t leave.” She grabbed the bottle once more, pulling out the cork with her teeth. She lifted the bottle above her head and in a moment brought it down, “Pwh! That’s some good shit!” She giggled, droplets falling onto her breasts.

Bakura had to go. She had to go now! All these sapphic desires were starting to arise and she was not the one for sexual exploration. All she needed was her cat and her radio! Not some chocolate goddess, whose lower half against her own felt heavenly.

“Ryou!” She shrieked in panic.

“What nice bonding time! I’ll leave you to it.” He casually left as if he saw nothing.

He better be ready for the Big Sleep because he had a chiv with his name on it.

“What is your name?” Reality hit, she had to socialize.

“You usually ask that before trapping someone underneath you.”

“Well, that’s your opinion.” She took another swing. Obviously waiting for her answer.

“Bakura.”

“Ba-ku-ra. What funny names you cousins have. I guess I owe you my name?”

“Mademoiselle Ishtar is quite long to say.”

“True. Ishtar is fine.” She said, “So you’re dancing with me?”

“I suppose. Ryou wouldn’t let me skip our meeting.” Bakura knew he was a real bimbo despite his thin frame.

Ishtar smirked, “He can be a pest, huh? Here.” She backed up, freeing Bakura, “There. Want a swig?” She brought Uto to the floor where he quickly slithered to God knows where.

Bakura sat up, “Sure.” She took the slightly heavy bottle and took a small sip. It was bitter like most wine but there was a hint of something fruity, “You mixed this?”

“With a little orange juice to ease the tang.”

Huh. Not bad.

“So you’re British?”

“Yea. You’re French?”

“…yea.” She looked off with a melancholy about her then it was gone, “I still cannot believe your monarchy is in power.”

“I still cannot believe France still exists after that shit show revolution.” Damn her mouth. That was a touchy subject for most Frenchmen. Her old teacher almost bit her head off when she spoke ignorantly of it.

Ishtar laughed, “Me either.”

They talked a bit more about random things. Ishtar loved the color purple, thunderstorms, and drinking champagne. Bakura liked red, blizzards, and whiskey. Ishtar is Ishizu’s sister. Bakura has no siblings. Ishtar thinks love is overrated. Bakura has dwindling hope. Ishtar had dated tons of guys. Bakura never even thought of a man.

Liquor makes for loose lips. And on the second bottle they were confessing like sinners in church.

“I think I like girls.”

Ishtar blinks, surprised at the confession, “Like like them?”

“I mean I want relationships with them instead of men.” Bakura explained.

Ishtar shifted a bit, “Oh!” Her shoulders slumped as she finally processed it, “Oh.” She twirled her curls around, nervously. Not sure what to say.

“Am I weird?” Bakura stared down at her hands.

“No. Everyone in France is currently doing that too. Everyone is pretty open to the idea. Girls kissing girls is a fad. It comes with promiscuity.”

“I don’t want it to be cheeky or coy. It’s a pure attraction, not a flirty trend!”

Ishtar quickly apologized, “Hey, I’m sorry! It was the only thing I could think of in comparison. The way you feel is not mischievous in the slightest. If you genuinely love a woman as a man does, go right ahead! No judgement from me.” She smiles.

Bakura feels a sense of relief, “Excuse my outburst. I just…never expressed this before.”

“No worries, girly! A few glasses of wine will do that.” Ishtar pats her shoulder “And don’t worry about me, hn? I’m like a steel vault of secrets. Plus I also think sometimes-"

A knock at the door made them both jolt.

“Fifteen til ShowTime!”

Ishtar jumped up, “Oh my! I lost track of time…again. I will see you tomorrow.” Around the room, she darted to gather her things.

Bakura wished she had the courage to ask her to finish her previous statement, “What will you be performing?”

She froze, “Well…you wouldn’t like it.” She removed any chance of seeing her expression.

Bakura scowled. They barely knew each other. “How would you know!”

“I just do!” She yelled. Realizing her outburst, she turned around, “Um…I have a temper. I uh. Will you be here tomorrow?” The hopefulness in her eyes shone through.

Not usually a fool for a pretty face, Bakura was angrier than a shook up bee hive at what she was about to say, “Sure.”

Damn her subconscious need for affection!

“Go on home and be here by nine. Go on! Shoo, shoo!” Ishtar exclaimed.

She was being kicked out! Ishtar gently swatted her towards the door. She budged this time despite not being keen on the situation. A woman of spite, she did not actually want to go. Bakura simply returned to her seat with Ryou.

“Enjoy yourself?” He teased her.

“And if I did.”

“You might just have the best night ever after this show.”

She did not bother asking because he would not bother answering. She snatched one of his cigarettes. He made her smoke, Ryou found enjoyment in her torture.

“Once again, give a hearty welcome to Mademoiselle Ishtar, boys.”

Bakura only then realized there was only men left in the audience. They clapped, eagerly facing the stage.

The band played a tamed ditty. A smooth leg kicked out from the curtains, earning a few whistles. This was a different crowd. The woman coyly strode to the center in the same feathered robe as before.

“Honey baby, won't you cuddle near. Let sweet mama whisper in your ear~” She then shrugged off the robe to reveal a brassiere with no cups yet pearls. “I'm Wild About That Thing, it makes me laugh and sing.” She caressed her inner thighs, winking, “Give it to me papa, I'm Wild About That Thing!”

The crowd whistled and Bakura wished she left before. How was she supposed to dance with this Sheba! Her whole face burned.

Ishtar swiveled her hips, “C’mon rock me with a steady roll!” Jumping from the small stage, she interacted with the crowd. Bakura watched her caress faces and steal shots, “I’m wild about that thing!”

Oh no her steps drawled closer.

“Any sugar for me, doll!” Ryou called. Damn him.

Ishtar smirked and strolled over singing to him, “Do it easy honey, don't get rough. From you papa I can't get enough.” She sat on their table. Bakura was looking down until something flashed in front of her.

…

It was Mademoiselle Ishtar’s legs. They spread for the world to see, Bakura dropped her jaw at the sight. Oh, oh lord. The singing stopped. No, the music stopped. Everything stopped. Bakura met the glaring eyes of the first woman she’d seen so intimately.

“I told you to go home, you weasel." She hissed, “Verse 4, boys!”

The performance continued without Bakura there as she was far too flustered. She sprinted out the building, passing the huge bodyguard, and to a street corner. She hailed a taxi to escape the honey trap called Harlem.

* * *

Her feet collapsed as soon as the front door shut.

Good lord, what has she gotten herself into this time! She had seen so much, mostly of Mademoiselle Ishtar. The thought made her face light up. It made her feel odd like never before. She had seen the magazines the sailors brought in but…nothing compared.

Did that woman even exist?

A small purring against her leg got her attention. Ah, Victoria, the sweet gal. She sure loved to cuddle and Bakura was happy to oblige.

_Brinnnng_

Most likely Yugi, calling to check in. She stood up and received the call.

"Hey, cousin."

She hung up.

The phone rung again. Sighing, she answered once more, "What?"

"Is that anyway to speak to the man who got you a date with America's favorite burlesque dancer?"

"You completely did what you felt like, disregarding me- Wait what? America's favorite what?"

"I forgot to tell you how big she is right now. A hotshot on the nightclub scene."

Bakura's brain was being scrambled, "How famous?"

"Would be on Broadway if she weren't black. She is the poster girl for all the nightclubs in the colored parts of towns. She would be the most famous if people would get off their high horse and forget color."

"So I am going to make a fool of myself tomorrow in front of a renown dancer."

He burst into laughter prompting her to hang up.

Oh no. Oh no! She was going to embarrass herself in front of one of the most gorgeous and now obviously talented women she had ever met. She had to cancel! She-

_Brinnnng_

"What!" She yelled into the phone.

A giggle, "A bit on edge huh, sugar?"

The scrambled egg that was her brain was now on fire, "Uh I uh uh."

"Just making sure you got home safely. You were so shaken up, I worried. I've never gotten a reaction like that to my goodies."

"I-I…"

"I think it hurt a bit."

AHHHH! "I loved your goodies! They were just berries! Never seen anything better!"

…

Ishtar laughed her ass off on the other end. Bakura just wanted to die. She'd run off to the horse races and lay flat for them to trample.

"Phew, you're a cutie! I'm excited to see you tomorrow, sug!"

"Y-yea."

"Bye~"

"Bye, bye." She hung up the phone. Banging her head against the wall, she decided it would be best to knock herself out cold. Hopefully never wake up. No, who would feed Queen Victoria. She had to live…or at least outlive her cat, "Victoria."

The little creature looked up from her stack of newspapers.

"Do you think I'll make a fool of myself?" Staring into her bright brown eyes, she found her answer, "Wow. You could be a bit more supportive."

"Mrrow."

  
"That doesn't excuse you. I'm going to bed."

Queen Victoria rather rudely ignored her and continued to paw at her papers. She was a heathen.

Bakura simply fell onto her mattress and hoped that tomorrow wouldn't kill her.


	2. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red. A color of passion, of lust, of anger. Red is intense and powerful. It is primitive and instinctual.  
> Red is the color Mademoiselle Ishtar's dance.

Bakura felt the sunshine on her face. It was warm and pleasant today. Usually, she'd roll over and hide. The sun felt so good. Queen Victoria hopped onto her bed beside her. Her fluffy gray hair looked glossy.

"You've been grooming, huh? I need to start, my legs look like the floor of a barber shop."

A simple meow from Victoria was all she needed. That and a paw to the face.

"Thank you, your majesty."

The phone rung from the kitchen. It was only…wow, eleven already. Who could it be? Ryou or Yugi. Her only two contacts. Hurrying from the bed, she caught the phone on the last ring, "Hello!"

"You're in trouble~" Ugh. Ryou.

"Are we in grade school?"

"If we were, you'd be bullied."

Bakura glared at the phone, "I genuinely despise your existence."

"If we weren't so closely related, I'd assume you were pitching woo."

"What on earth do you want!"

He laughed, "I got a call from a certain dancer. She's quite upset about being second place to your pussycat."

What dancer?

Oh. Oh no! NO!

"You still there, bud?"

"Aye."

"You have forty five minutes to make it before she curses your name and defames you…again."

That was all she needed to get her rear moving! She just had to pick an outfit and…she had to pick an outfit! What did she own besides black?

A tiny buzzing came from beside her. She did not hang up yet, "Sorry, Ryou, I have to-"

"Wear the outfit from the dinner party for Auntie."

"Auntie Marie or Auntie Kiko?"

"Kiko, you fool!"

He was right, it was the best ensemble yet. She actually hung up, running to her closet. Wine red blouse, and the brown chanel suit gifted to her from a patron, with her socks and oxfords.

Good golly, she cleaned up well.

Pulling her hair into a low bun, she slipped through the apartment. Filling Queen Victoria's bowl, she called her feline over.

"No wild parties, no booze, no escaping to fraternize with the tabby in the alleyway."

Queen Victoria stared at her. There was a defiance in her eyes that scared Bakura to her core. She really liked that stray.

"Whatever. Don't get pregnant." Out the door, and to the main streets she went. She hailed a taxi, telling the address to another reluctant cabby. She wanted to tell him it wasn't bad. It was fun there, the people seemed nice enough. Why would he listen? She wouldn't if she had not gone herself.

* * *

Bakura knocked on the door of the building. A few moments later, the door opened. The dark haired woman from last night was at the door, "Uh, hello. Can I help you?" She asked, curiously.

"I'm looking for the dancer, Ishtar, that was here last night. Is she staying here? She told me to come."

"Ishtar, huh?" She huffed, "Come in. She's rampaging around in her studio. Seems mad today."

She knew it was her own fault. They walked through the venue into the side hallway. A different door than the one last night was opened. Music poured out, as the door creaked open. What was this music? It was so energetic like the music last night. Jazz never sounded so good. Ishtar was dancing along to the song, her legs swinging about with the beat. Her shorts hit her thigh, leaving her smooth skin exposed to the world. She glistened with perspiration, not sweaty just radiant in every way.

"Excuse me…Ishtar." The raven haired woman called.

The blonde stopped mid motion, panting. Her red cotton shirt, matching her red lipstick, clung to her. She turned around, confused, "Why are you calling me-" Her face went from irritated to shocked then back to irritated. "You."

Bakura honestly did not how to respond to that, especially with how frightening she was. Isis scoffed at the hostility, "Fix your attitude. This is why you don't have friends."

"That's not why and you know it." She mumbled.

"Sorry about being late. I was out pretty late so I overslept. I'm not used to late nights."

Her expression softened, the crease in her brows disappearing, "Well…okay."

Isis sighed, "Good luck. I'm leaving for the grocery shop. Watch the kid." She said, leaving.

Feeling better than before, "Good morning, my disobedient pupil!" Ishtar laughed, "How was the show last night?"

Bakura was surprised by her sudden mood change but ignored it, "I almost stayed home today. It traumatized me."

"Why stay home and fantasize when I am right here?" She jokingly caressed her thighs. The joke was on her because the girl found it extremely attractive.

Bakura ignored her further demonstrations, taking off her jacket and putting it on the adjacent coat rack.

"Oh heavens, what are you wearing!"

Damn Ryou! Her best outfit was not good enough.

"You're going to ruin that outfit, that cute little blouse will be the muckiest thing in Harlem."

She thought it was cute! Smashing!

Thinking up a quick reply, "I never did much exercise."

"Nothing? Well, fine. I have a few extra sets upstairs." Ishtar turned on her heel, leaving.

Bakura sighed, waiting for her return-

"Well let's go you ninny picking fool!"

Another sigh for another reason. She trailed behind the girl up the stairs. Abruptly, she bumped into her bum as the woman stopped.

"Sorry back there. The train is coming."

Bakura peeked up the stairs hearing a small high pitched 'Chugachuga'. A toddler waddled past them, a red toy train chugging along. As it passed, Ishtar moved once again.

"We take railroad crossing very serious around here."

"Good, better safe than sorry."

They entered a hall, one end with a kitchen other end with a living room. Rushing through the modest though toy infested living room, another hall was presented with multiple doors.

The blonde gingerly stood outside the very last one at the end of the hall, "This is me. Uh, I'll be frank, my room is quite messy so forgive me, won't you."

Bakura nodded, not much caring due to her own hoarding problem.

Upon opening the door, music poured out. A soulful ditty, sending her to a rural part of America.

"Oh, horsefeathers! I left it on again."

Entering, Bakura realized Malikah was a liar. Her room was spotless. It was a surprising layout for her personality. The color scheme was off white and gold. A few plants sat around the room. Some with just leaves, some with small crimson flowers. The fact that she thought this was messy quite frankly pissed her off.

"I recently crocheted that blanket on the bed. Cute, right?"

"Just dandy." It actually was. There were even little tassels along the parameters.

The woman skipped over to her dresser, "Shorts and a shirt, right? I have stolen plenty from boys, don't you worry."

"Stole em?"

Ishtar laughs, "Oh yea, I tells 'em my wrinkled clothes are too telling of a wild night, if they don't want the secret out they better give me some clothes. They hand the threads right over." She throws said trophies on the bed for Bakura to wear.

Going to unbutton her blouse, she realized Ishtar had not made a move to get out, "You leaving?"

"For what?" There was genuine confusion in her tone.

"Privacy."

That made her laugh again, "Same bits and pieces!" She then spun around. Fiddling with something Bakura could not see, she hummed along with the current melody streaming from the gramophone.

Despite the discomfort, Bakura knew she had to undress or seem like a spaz. This was karma for the night before. Unbuttoning her blouse, she nervously undressed.

"What size are you in dress?" The girl asked, flopping onto her bed.

"Zero." Bakura felt eyes peering into her.

"My goodness! Do you even eat? I couldn't get that up my thigh. And here I was about to give you some stylish threads I've outgrown. I suppose if I take em in a bit, they'll look like the current style."

Aye, the boyish, loose look was the craze.

Pulling on her new shirt and shorts really highlighted the girl's point. The clothes hung right off her. Everything technically did considering how thin she was. Never before had she realized how bony and frail she looked. She could eat more but she only ever ate dinner due to sheer lethargy.

"I can tie the drawstring tight to keep your shorts off the ground." Malikah giggled, sitting up, "Cmere."

Bakura did as told for once. After the last incident, she could not afford to disobey. Malikah pulled her forwards by the hem of her pants. Rather close for comfort, felt the need to look away but could not bare to do so. The stunning vixen pressed against her looked divine.

"There we go." She smiled, looking up into her eyes.

She had the most beautiful eyes, bordering on violet. Bakura traced the curves of her face, noting each beauty mark.

"Good Jehovah, I think she has rigor Morris."

That big mouth of hers could ruin any special moment, "Ishtar, it is rigor mortis."

"That's what I said!" She defended herself.

"Sure it was." Before the argument could escalate, "Ready to dance?"

Ishtar jumped up, "Course I am! Let's go!" She grabbed her collar, dragging her along like a dog. Passing the living room, a small child watching them scurry by.

"Aunty! She's not a doggie!"

"That's your opinion." She mumbled in response.

"An aunt? Bet you're berries at that."

"I sure am! I taught the little bean everything they should know. Practically a sailor with all those swears!"

As expected.

* * *

"Wow."

An hour of disappointment is the only way to properly describe their session. The sheer lack of any progress was a feat. No one had ever worked harder just to end up with nothing gained or lost. Truly a pathetic achievement.

"You're so…stiff. I've never seen someone so…bad at moving their own body." Ishtar said, genuinely baffled, "It is like it is not yours but it is. That's so sad."

Bakura simply glared at her, knowing she was right.

"Maybe you need booze? A gasper?" the blonde offered.

"It's fine, I am simply nervous." Her anxiety to fail was only causing her to fail.

Her companion pouted, "It's just me here!" She was somewhat offended. Her presence offstage was often called intimidating despite her best efforts. She did not think she was.

"I get that but…I see you do it but my body does not understand how to copy it."

Ishtar nodded her head in thought, "If you cannot move your body yourself, I suppose I'll have to move it for you." She waltzed over to her, linking their hands, "Watch my feet."

She did.

"Woah!" She brought her foot back to dodge the assaulting one of Ishtar's, "Are you trying to-" To avoid a kick, she swung her leg behind her.

"Your hands are never to leave mine! If I let go, you try your damndest to get it back with the same hand." She flung Bakura away, their adjoined arms pulling taunt. The albino twirled beneath their arms to relink their hands. Ishtar started the step move again, one foot then the other. Bakura had to move quick to avoid being hurt.

After a while, she moved habitually instead of instinctively. They flowed to each other's movements. Bakura felt like she was flying at some points.

"Stop!"

What?

"Do you realize you mastered majority of the moves?"

WHAT?

"What…no…wait. Yea, I did!" She looked down at her feet, "Who knew I could do this?"

"I did!" Ishtar boasted, "Great job!" She hugged the smaller woman.

Unsure of how to respond, awkwardly patted her back. She loved the feeling of their bodies together. It felt like puzzle pieces coming together, a match among the muddled pieces around them.

"I really hope you'll come back to learn. I haven't had this much fun in awhile!" Ishtar pulled away from her, a wide gorgeous smile adorned her face.

Bakura became hesitant. She could assure that she'd come once more. Harlem was swell but so was the comfort of her home. Yes, her home. During their time together, she forgot her preference for solitude. Right, she wanted to be by her lonesome, "I don't leave my house much. I like my alone time. I don't think I'll be back."

"Oh." Ishtar's shoulders slumped, "Alright. Never mind me then!" She continued to smile despite it being duller.

There was a melancholy in Ishtar that Bakura couldn't explain or even prove. Obviously, she did not show it but it was there. Her smile seemed fake, as did her abundant joy. Her eyes were a gate to Neverland. A place of fantasy, loneliness, and forgotten memories.

"I do not want to offend you. I'm a recluse for a reason."

Ishtar shrugged her shoulders, "This is no interrogation. Do as you please." She turned off her gramophone, "You've already fulfilled my wish to dance with you." There was spite in her tone and a crease in her brow.

Bakura stared at her with genuine confusion, "Why'd you want to teach me so bad?"

"Ryou." That shocked her, "He told me about you. Your stardom in Britain, your downfall, then your emigration. He said you were feisty, adventurous, and downright frightening."

She found herself fiddling with her buttons, trying to forge words, "I…I am not that woman anymore."

"You are still her. You just choose to subdue yourself. You choose to be a lesser version of yourself. Thus making you a chump. I hate chumps." Ishtar began to stretch once more. She had to prepare for another performance and paid no heed to the impact of her words. It was best that she give Bakura time to recuperate from the blow.

Bakura knew that her moping was merely feeling sorry for herself. The critiques that ruined her fame were across the pond without a paddle to reach her. Losing her notoriety took a week. Her manager had phoned her, saying 'You've finally done it! No one will hire you!' Her attitude had landed her in the poorhouse. No troupe wanted a controversy, so she sang in pubs and taverns to make due.

London was far too expensive for her new salary. So when Ryou, who she had not heard from in ages, called she jumped on the next ship to America. On the boat she promised to quiet down, to be a good girl. She would not make the same mistake twice. She had to slow down before she lost all control…again.

"I…can't afford to be a wildcat anymore. I lost a lot in Britain."

Ishtar turned on her toes, bumping into Bakura. She wrapped her arms around her waist, "Just shut up." The albino felt her between her thighs, "Lost a lot? Whatever. You won't gain a thing hiding from the world." She whispered, "You won't reclaim your throne from your couch." Their foreheads bumped together, their eyes linked. "You won't find that girl you'd like as a man does."

Bakura hated her own words being using her but how could she argue like this. Just as the night before, Ishtar felt heavenly. She knew it, that's why she did it. Cunning, she used her assets to her advantage. The only thought that came to mind was Carmen. She performed it for a short time as Michaela. The Carmen they picked was lacking in sexual prowess but her singing made up for it.

This woman, this woman before her screamed temptress. "How would you know what it takes to woo a woman?" Hoping the spite was properly interpreted.

A finger brushed her lips, teasingly. A short giggle escaped her, tickling Bakura in the coyest way, "I think you're getting a demonstration right now."

All the warmth was immediately stolen. Ishtar resumed her routine, dancing a lot slower and sensual, "You know where the door is right? Shoo. I hate chumps. Come back when you've got air in your tire."

This was probably the rudest encounter of all time.

Bakura wasn't going to argue, she was so infuriated. Grabbing her jacket, she stomped out to the street. Laying waste to the nearest lamppost. She kicked the feeling out her foot, "Ah!"

"Hey, I don't come to your neighborhood and take down lampposts."

It was the man from the night before! He looked bigger in daylight. Like really big. Did she really pick a fight with this man?

"Something wrong? I thought you were supposed to be dancing, not breaking your feet."

Bakura glared at him, "It's not your business! It's not even my business apparently! I am too boring for her."

The man sighed, exasperated, "She's doing it again, huh? That girl thinks she is royalty."

"Right! Horsefeathers, she just kicked me out after laying waste to my dignity!"

He nodded, fondly, "She will do that. What did you do?"

"I left."

He blinked, "You what?"

Did she do something wrong?

"What is up with you girls? All of you just let her run over you. I thought _you_ at least had some fight in you."

Did everyone just expect her to be a savage! A raving lunatic! "What would you have me do? Fight her?"

His face light up as if the idea were sane, "Well, yes."

L'amour est un oiseau rebelle spiked in her head.

She had gone mad. Truly daft. She was actually considering the idea!

"Give her what for. Tell her how you feel."

Bakura should just walk away now. Just like Jose should have with Carmen. Going back, she might be trapped in her web.

"Or will you be another coward?"

A coward? How dare he say that! No, how dare it be the truth! Bakura was no yellow belly! She was many things but a wimp…well, now she just had to disprove that assumption.

"What's your name, big fella?"

"Rishid."

"Well, Rishid," She smirked, maliciously, "You're to blame for the killing of Carmen."

His confusion was laughable. No matter. She waltzed into the building with him on her tail. She kicked open the door to her studio, "Mademoiselle!"

She turned in shock only to be slapped into the original direction. She crumbled to the floor onto her side.

"You may have had me all figured out but my dear you haven't scraped the surface." She watched as the idol tried to rise. She pushed her down then kneeled beside her, "I'm not done. You said you were wooing me, you're the one infatuated with me!" She grabbed the front of her shirt,

"Thing is why would I want some spoiled, haughty hoofer. You're just an overgrown child playing princess." Pulling her just as close as earlier, "Get your life together before you critique mine."

She smirked, loving the power she felt. Yes, a god must have possessed her!

"How cute."

_Si tu ne m'aimes pas, si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime_

Bakura looked down to the most wickedly evil smile she had ever seen. So shocked by this, she lost her balance. The wild gypsy just laughed at her.

"Wow, I knew you would be intriguing but now you're my favorite toy!"

A flash of gold hit her. She squinted, expecting a hit but…she was only met with violet eyes peering widely at her.

"You're so cute, I can't wait to see what you become!"

Bakura lost all her confidence, "What? What on earth do you mean!"

"You're my little pet from now on. I've always been in search of a partner. Stick with me, girly, we'll be gods!"

No, no, no! She was not getting into trouble with this Sheba! She had to clean up her act, she had to listen to the radio, play with her cat! Not run rampant in the streets with a flapper who could drink an Irishman under the table.

"No, let me wallow. Please!" She begged, sounding as pathetic as she felt.

Ishtar giggled, "No can do, sugar." She lean down, hovering over her lips, "You're my new favorite toy."

_Prends garde à toi_

Bakura's pleas were muffled as her soul was sucked out. This kiss forbade any defiance or rebellion. The opera singer knew she was going to become a puppet after this. She had caught the eye of Carmen, now like Jose, she was a slave to passion.

_Mais si je t'aime, si je t'aime, prends garde à toi_


	3. Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orange is a fun color. The passion of red and the happiness of yellow. It is a warm, inviting color despite too much of it being flamboyant and gaudy. Orange is indeed a fun color.

After about a month of practice, Bakura was swinging without much help. Though far more subdued than what the stage called for, she could dance in a crowd without odd looks.

"Great session, sugar!" Ishtar exclaimed, panting.

Bakura was bent over her knees, heaving. Her hair was stuck to her face, clinging to her sweat, "Yea!"

Ishtar was well built. Her body was curved though strong. She had a bit of muscle to her, a great help to perform the exhausting moves on stage. She was often doing various manual duties suited for a man. She fixed appliances, lifted equipment, repaired vehicles. She was a different type of dame. Dancing did not debilitate her like it did for the shiftless Bakura.

"Damn, I'm not sure if there's more I can teach you."

These classes would soon come to an end. There would be no reason for her to visit. She'd go back to sitting in her apartment alone and sad. Visiting this vixen had become a routine, they had danced, sang, ate, laughed together. It had been fun…inspiring even. She grew a fondness for more upbeat music that she then sung at the bar. There was a song she had been writing about Ishtar. She had become a muse of sorts.

"I guess I should get going." She wanted to continue to think of lyrics.

"Then get out!" Ishtar playfully pushed her away, "I have a strict beauty regimen and unless you're going to shape my toenails, I suggest you go."

Bakura wanted to argue but it was not worth it, "I'm sick of you. Goodbye."

"Me? After all my charity work!" She faked utter despair. It seemed she was better suited for the screen than the stage.

"I'm going to change my clothes."

"You'll ruin them, look at yourself."

She eyed herself in the wall length mirror. She was drenched in sweat, she looked like a wet dog with all her hair.

"We just got a rain shower! Want to try it!" Ishtar threw her an orange towel.

Bakura brightened up, "You got one of those weird bath things?" She dabbed the soft rag along her face.

"Come, come and let me rock ya socks off!"

They ran upstairs with lightning speed. Kicking open the bathroom door, Ishtar jumped next to the cage like contraption, "Turn the knobs and…" The water spewed from the circular nozzle.

Bakura knew her jaw was on the ground. The girl beside smugly nodded, understanding her amazement.

"Technology is a gift from god."

"Sure is, sugar. Feel it. Feel the water."

…

Slightly scared, she gingerly stuck her finger in the stream, "It's warm…ITS WARM!"

"CRAZY, RIGHT!"

They screamed together, so excited and astounded by this weird doohickey.

"I'm getting in." Bakura announced, convinced this was the best thing since sliced bread.

"Go for it."

…

"Get out!"

"It's my house, I get to watch!" The woman scoffed.

Bakura took off her shoe and threw it at the woman. Ishtar took off, laughing. Finally alone, she sighed.

Dancing with Ishtar had been a great decision despite her constant mood swings and poor ability to stay sober. They had grown so close these past weeks. Bakura could easily call her a comrade. Is that what she wanted though? A friend. Nothing more?

Removing the rest of her clothes, she slowly stepped into the stream of water.

They hit it off swimmingly. There was something there, they had a connection. It definitely was not love, maybe infatuation with each other. There was a fondness between the women. They inspired each other. Bakura was hardly sure if that was enough to convince them to try dating. Especially with Ishtar's ego.

Moments later, soaked to the bone, Bakura padded her way to Ishtar's room. Opening the door, she found Ishtar staring at a book in her lap. Her hair was neatly tucked behind her ear. She looked quite somber against her orange tulips that replaced last month's red geranium. The plants never lasted long she heard.

"You can read, ditz?" She joked, closing the door behind her.

"I can write too. Surprise!"

Sitting on the bed, she got a better look at the book. It was handwritten in a sprawled cursive, "What's that?"

"…A little fantasy tale I'm writing."

Bakura laughed at her sudden meekness, "I never figured you a writer."

"You've only known me a month."

"Still."

The woman smiled, "No one thinks that honestly. I don't tell people but…I really love writing. I love reading too. I know it's odd looking for a gal like me."

Bakura looked over to her, "No. You have a lot of passion. You're probably a great writer."

Ishtar hid her face, grinning at the compliments, "You flatter me!"

That wasn't flattery. Ishtar was quite eloquent and poetic on occasion despite her mistakes in English. "If you have anything you care to part with, I'll gladly read it."

The blonde turned to her, "Do you prefer Gothic," she placed her hand over the pale one, "Or Romance?"

Her breath hitched, feeling Ishtar move closer. Their shoulders brushed together.

"Can I give you something?" She whispered, entwining their fingers.

"Yea…"

Ishtar leaned forward, her free hand looping around her neck. Bakura in a moment of fear and excitement, closed her eyes and pursed her lips in anticipation. Warmth enveloped her. Breath was on her neck and the arm tightened.

That was it. She received a hug.

"Wow, that was great! Sorry, I can get a bit coy." The blonde released her. With one glance she could tell Bakura was distraught, "Did I do something wrong?"

"What was that!"

"I thought it was fine, my bad. Don't get mad-" She was cut off by the soft lips of her companion.

Bakura was acting mainly on adrenaline. The heat she felt would not subside for any form of deterrent. A need of warmth bashed her self control with a bludgeon. A kiss would suffice. This would suffice, right? Could she appease her demons in her with this offering?

She pulled away, retracing her tongue she did not realize she used. She could not afford to go further in her actions. With a deep breath, she cooled herself down, "Listen I did not mean to do that." She looked to her to further express her apologies. The sight of a disheveled woman was a she found.

Mouth slight agape, hair tousled about, she felt her now wet lips with her fingers. With lidded eyes, she stared at Bakura with confusion and carnality

"I uh I." The words were lost in her throat. "I've never kissed someone like that." She whispered, looking away.

The albino nodded, "Neither have I." On further thought, Ishtar had never been kissed so passionately before? She, herself, said she had dated tons of men. Had they not kissed?

"I didn't hate it."

Her attention was back to her companion boring into her with those eerily violet eyes. There was an indecency about her current gaze. A predator like aspect.

"You didn't?"

"No." The grip of their hands tightened, "I quite enjoyed it."

Bakura lost all her sudden confidence, "R-really?"

Ishtar moved closer, "I would love to do it again." She said guiding her thin pale hands to the small of her own back, "I would love to get a better taste." She closed the space between them, pushing her breasts against Bakura's.

Entranced by the feel of her heavenly body pressed against her mortal flesh. "I would too."

"Then have at me, won't you, sugar?"

Without needing a second of hesitation, she had returned to her mouth with newfound enthusiasm. The passion of their embrace made each breath short and inept.

"Sister!"

They stopped, panting. The door wide open only emphasized the wide eyes of Isis. She positively glowed with anger.

"We need to speak. Now."

Ishtar sighed, pulling from their embrace yet not releasing her hand before a small squeeze and a sad smile. She walked into the hallway. Isis closed the door, glaring at Bakura until the door finally shut.

"Dammit." She cursed.

What was she thinking? This was so sudden and irrational. She pulled on her previous clothes, hurriedly.

A few whispered arguments hit her ears.

"What if he finds out?" -Isis

Ishtar- "He won't."

Bakura took another deep breath.

The door opened, in walked the blonde. Shame was riddled on her face, "I'm sorry, you have to go."

She figured as much, "Excuse me then." She stood, trying to leave as quickly as possible, "I can see myself out."

"You're a guest. I'll see you to the door."

Bakura simply walked past them, ignoring the hostile gaze of Isis. Ishtar followed swiftly after. She gathered her coat and purse, ready to grab the nearest taxi home.

"Wait I forgot to give you the recommendation I said before."

She'd rather leave than wait but those pleading violet eyes held her captive. Though the 'recommendation' slipped her mind. What recommendation?

"I'll be right back!" Ishtar said, rushing up the staircase.

Isis sighed, "Her brain is anywhere but reality." She glanced Bakura over, "This has nothing to do with you personally. She can't see anyone right now. Especially, another woman."

"Is that not her decision?"

"Like I said earlier, her head is anywhere but reality. I have to be her reason and discipline. She has none."

She would learn it if she had to but Isis made up for her lack of a conscious.

Ishtar descended the stairs in record time, "Here!" She shoved her book into Bakura's hands, "I'd check the first page very closely and as soon as possible…if you want reservations!" She added.

Bakura raised an eyebrow at the odd implications. Ishtar sent her a quick wink and pieces started to click into place, "Of course. Thank you for your hospitality these last few weeks." Tipping her hat, she bid farewell.

After reaching the corner, she opened the book to the first page. A note was sloppily scribbled on it.

" _Meet me at The Den on Thursday at 10."_

Unable to contain her excitement, she victory posed, confusing every passerby. It didn't matter, she had a date!

* * *

She cried at the bar, "I have a date!" She said in despair. Ryou and Yugi were polishing glasses, trying their best to help. Bakura was a stubborn mope, hard to lighten up after she takes the self pity train. Ryou used to call her Romeo with how whiny and despairing she is sometimes.

This was a Romeo moment.

"What's the problem again?" Yugi asked, sympathetically.

"My fashion sense is downright drab!"

Ryou smirked, "You're not wrong." He shrugged his shoulders, "Where are you two going?"

"The Den."

Both men froze.

"What?"

"They call that joint the Den of Thieves. Only high rollers and mobsters go there." Yugi explained.

"It is tons of fun." Ryou smiled.

Now everyone knew Ryou had a penchant for danger but he was a bit too much of a thrill seeker.

Yugi was concerned that his cousin would fall down the same rabbit hole, "Are you sure you want to go, Bakura?"

She brushed off his worry, apathetically, "Yea, sure, whatever! My outfit is the problem! I only own black!"

Yugi and Ryou both sent her a look of contempt.

"I'll take you to Macy's later." Her cousin stated, finishing his task and moving to the next.

Bakura hit her noggin a few times trying to figure out why exactly she was going on this date. She hadn't seen Ishtar since Monday, it was Wednesday with no word from her. Maybe she had forgotten. Holy hell, what if she didn't! She had to show up to find out!

Ugh!

"Here."

A shot glass was slid her way. The kind smile of the small man. It was comforting.

"Down the hatchet." She threw the drink back, letting it warm her up.

"Good?"

"Good."

* * *

Bakura had to admit this place was intimidating and out of her price range. Was this a Rockefeller joint?

She waltzed into the extravagant building. The structure was held by Corinthian columns. She walked across the marble floors to the host. At least she dressed classy for this. Ryou insisted on this blue dress with orange embellishments. Orange, he said, was a lucky color this week. She hoped that would help her make a good impression.

"Excuse me?"

He looked up from his book, "Name."

"It should be under Mademoiselle Ishtar."

He glanced over her curiously, "Oh. Please follow me."

His reaction to her made her nervous. He seemed genuinely taken aback. Bakura noticed Mademoiselle Ishtar, everyone had also, due to her large fur and glimmering gems. She sat at the table, cigarette holder in hand. Her foot tapped along to the beat.

"Madame."

She looked up. Upon seeing Bakura, she straightened up from her lax sprawl.

"Come, come! Sit with me! Thank you, sir."

The host went his way and Bakura sat across from her friend, removing her trench coat.

"Hear that?"

"What? The band is playing."

She nodded, excitedly, "Sure is! It's missing that spunk! That oomf! That zing!" She threw back her drink like it was water. It looked to be but the bitter smell said otherwise.

"How many drinks have you had?" Dinner with a drunk sounded unappealing.

"My show finished early so I came here to sit and wait. I'm starved now, if I get some bread in me I'll be as right as rain."

Ignoring that her question was not answered, she continued, "Then let's eat."

Moments later a waiter took their order and left a loaf of bread. As promised, Ishtar sobered up. They began to talk about casual things until the blonde sighed deeply, ruining the conversation.

"Am I boring?"

"No, I'm just being weighed down by some thoughts."

"Care to explain?"

She seemed rather reluctant but answered, "Fine." She shifted herself to a more comfortable position, "I have been feeling trapped lately. Isis kicking you out made me realize I don't have much say. I like living with family but at the end of the day, it is her house."

"Move out then. You're 25. Gain some independence."

"I'd agree if I had some self control. After one drink comes two then three, then I'm under some floundering fool whose face I can't remember but I vaguely recall he offered to buy me a cab only to ship me off to his house."

Bakura loathed that sentence more than anything. There was no words to describe how disgusting it must have been to wake up to someone on top of them. She threw back her drink, "You're one sad broad."

"Sad?"

"You don't share much but what you do is a goddamn gem." She said, sarcastically.

Ishtar scowled, "At least I wasn't blacklisted in my homeland."

Oh that was quite the blow. The pale woman tapped her foot in anger, "You know what I did?"

The woman shrugged, "You got on stage and went on a tangent about how rich folk are the scum of society."

"Woah, you got the short version." She grabbed a cigarette from the box on the table. Reaching for her purse, she noticed her companion holding out a match for her. She leaned forward, catching the flames on her gasper. The nicotine felt good in her lungs.

"Give me the full story then."

She rolled her eyes, "What entertainer works for free?"

Ishtar looked as though she was giving it a thought, "Okay. Share your secret. I'll share mine."

Bakura eyed her suspiciously. Honestly, she didn't trust the dancer much. Her jovial demeanor hid something more sinister. This was a game to her. Everything was a game.

"Deal, sugar?"

Shaking hands with the devil himself would be less intimidating. This would be a chance to be vulnerable with each other. Maybe she could find the real girl inside this persona.

"Deal."

She would give it a shot.

They shook.

"Finish that story of yours then."

"I was drunk off my rocker. My boss comes in and tells me to do a last second performance for some rich bastards whose daddies paid their way out the war. My friends, too poor to pay their way out of the war, were all dead or missing so their type made me mad."

"Truth is…I'm half Irish, half Japanese. I moved to England a bit young. I don't tell people the Irish part because of bad blood. Another reason I hate their type, rich Brits made my country hell on earth. So I was double mad. My understudy had asked me earlier to grab a pint with her and I had to perform in front of these chunks of shite! Triple mad!"

"I started fine then I saw two idiots having a conversation during my performance. I brushed it off until they were no longer whispering. I threw my shoes at them and my mouth spewed everything I had at them. It would not stop pouring from my mouth."

"I ran off stage, angrily taking off my clothes without looking around until I heard a gasp. It was the woman. My understudy came back to the opera house when I was late. Our boss told her to wait in my dressing room."

Bakura clenched her fists, tight enough to puncture herself, "Then…then that vile minx kissed me."

Ishtar was amused by her little display, "You didn't have a problem with mine."

"Your kiss wasn't so malice, as it was utterly sinful."

"Go on." She said with a smirk.

"Right! As she does, the door opens. In the doorway is my boss and the rich Brits. The girl slapped me yelling, 'Get this scoundrel away from me! She tried to force a kiss from me! Who knows what might've happened next!' A terrible actress as always but her one strong suit was fake crying."

"I was dragged out and thrown into the street. Within a week, my name was the equivalent of Satan. They called me a lowlife drunkard in the paper. No place would hire me. Adding the recession atop that, I had to go."

"So you outed yourself as a sapphic Irish woman, thus making you an outcast?"

"Aye."

Ishtar shrugged, a low chuckle escaping her. Bakura was on the verge of kicking her, "That's no career ending scandal here. The British are such stiffs."

This was odd. Her turmoil was their trivial run of the mill gossip. Was America that accepting or merely nonchalant? People here did seem more apathetic to wrongdoings.

"I don't see the problem in being Irish. Hey, at least you're not ginger."

Well…she did have that going for her despite her clear lack of any pigmentation at all.

"Your secret?"

Ishtar nodded, leaning forward, "Cmere~"

Wearily, she complied.

"My secret is…my name isn't Ishtar. It is Malikah Issar."

Surprising but nothing raunchy, "That's your dark secret?"

"Mhm. That's it." Ishtar- no, Malikah concluded.

Trying not to show disappointment, "Anticlimactic."

"Don't go telling people. Only my family call me Malikah."

Bakura felt bamboozled. Severely bamboozled. She expecting…more.

"Can I have something more scandalous?"

"My name holds a lot more importance than you know." She laughed.

"What if I called you by your name right now?"

The woman seemed amused, "I'd gut you like a fish, sugar~" She pulled the strap of her dress down to show a shiny hunk of metal between her breasts. On a closer look…it was a pocket knife.

Bakura couldn't help her shocked face. Never had she met a woman carrying around a blade in her cleavage. Who was this Malikah Issar?

"Look at your face!" The mystery woman howled, "I'm so happy I kept you around! You crack me up!" She wiped a tear from her eye.

Just as she was about to retaliate, the music really started to dive. Malikah peeked over the railing behind them, "Holy molely! They stink!" She yelled.

Bakura shushed her to no avail.

"This is worse than the damn alley cats screeching! Hey, you! Get off that damn stage ya hack!"

"Hey, screw you lady!"

"Someone has to! It won't be you, you can't even sing so how are you gonna make me scream!" She cackled to herself.

The albino was slouched in her seat in embarrassment. A hand over her face so the many eyes couldn't see her.

"If you know so much how about you sing something!" A different man yelled.

"I thought you'd never ask!" She started to remove her shoes.

Bakura grabbed her hand, "What are ye doin'!"

"Going to sing. Come with me!"

Nononono.

Malikah stood up and in a second, jumped over the railing. Bakura screamed, rushing to help. Heart racing, she was relieved and infuriated she had jumped the staircase onto the ground floor. They weren't high but no idiot would jump it. Except Mademoiselle Idiot.

That was a good one, she had to write it down later. Now she had to catch up with her clearly juiced friend.

"Good evening ladies and the men they swindled a meal out of."

The crowd laughed along with her.

"I am the illustrious Mademoiselle Ishtar, your entertainer. And here comes my very own bearcat from across the pond."

Bakura caught her, pulling her from the mic, "Stop whatever you think you're doing."

"We're going to sing, sugar."

"We are not! What did I tell you about a low profile!"

Malikah shrugged, "If I listened to you half the time, I'd be two bottles in from boredom."

Ouch. "You really know how to hurt my pride."

"Don't want it broke? Don't leave it out on display. Listen, this is the perfect opportunity to grab fans and connections. You want revenge on those bastards from your past: get famous. They won't be able to touch you over here if you're America's star."

That wasn't bad. Only news Europe received about famous people in America was if they were really big. If she got the stardom, no foreign critic could take it away. The gossip of London meant nothing to these people as long as they got a good show.

"Now sing with me."

Bakura looked into her violet eyes lost in Neverland. She decided to take an adventure to the other side.

"Fine. What are we singing?"

"You know it, just follow my lead." She walked over to the band beside the small stage. A whispered conversation happened between them before she returned. They returned to the microphone, "Sit back, ladies and gents, let us take you to Heaven."

The piano started the song.

"Do you know where I am?" Malikah said, "I'm in heaven." She sung. Her low sultry voice made Bakura melt every time she heard it, "And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find-" She looks directly into her russet eyes sending her farther into that land of enchantment, "The happiness I seek." Her soft, warm hand caresses her blushing cheek, "When we're out together dancing….cheek to cheek."

The music picked up. Still trapped in her snare, Malikah poked her nose. She gasped awake, "Heaven!" She cried out, nervously, "I'm in heaven!" She sighed, relaxing, "And the cares that hung around me through the week." She sings, staring out into the glee audience.

She glanced beside her to find Malikah smiling at her, dancing swiftly to the beat, "Seems to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak." She feels an arm creep around her waist, pulling her in a pseudo hug, "When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek!"

Hearing this song during their many dance sessions, Bakura knew there was bit of down time til the next lyrics. She wanted to dance.

So when Malikah finished her verse, she grabbed her hand and spun her around to face her. This time she would lead. The women's face absolutely lit up in glee and surprise by the gesture. Her laughter complimented the music well.

"Guess we're trendsetters."

Bakura followed her gaze. Dancing had ensued throughout the club.

"It appears we have. I have something they don't."

Malikah smirked, "Besides white hair?"

"Old man to your right has my hairdo."

"Bad news for you. I like white hair, wrinkles are a bonus I cannot refuse. But tell, what is this exclusive thing that only you possess?"

"The hottest woman in America in my arms tonight."

Bakura could almost see her ego inflate like a hot air balloon. She felt a leg hook around her own.

"Want to kiss in front of these losers?"

"Trying to get me kicked out and defamed?"

"Only thing that will get you defamed is me screaming your name tonight."

Caution to the wind!

She dived right in. Their little session earned a few gasps, a little booing, and a lot of coy whistles.

"You didn't even finish the song!" A woman heckled.

Bakura stopped, suddenly. She grabbed the mic, "Yadda yadda cheek to cheek." Then resumed kissing Malikah much to the amusement of the room.

* * *

Stumbling out of the restaurant, they hailed a taxi.

"I can't wait to go to your place." Malikah spoke funnier than normal this drunk, "Maybe I'll finally get a good shag!" She was clearly more intoxicated due to her earlier drinks (and poor self discipline).

Bakura completely snapped out of her drunken giddy, "Stop the taxi!" She screamed.

The man slammed on his break, "The hell is your problem, lady!" He yelled.

"You're taking this woman to Harlem!" She barked back.

"What!" Both the man and woman said.

"I'm not going to Harlem!"

"You will for this hundred." She pulled said cash from her pocket, dangling it into his window.

He snatched it, "Harlem, here we come."

Malikah was still in shock, "Bakura, what are you doing?"

"I'm not like the guys who took you home drunk to use you. I won't be another vacant memory."

Her face suddenly morphed into rage, "I want to go with you!"

"No." That was that. She exited the car, slamming the door. She held it shut as the girl inside pounded on it, "Drive!" She yelled.

The car moved, she pulled away, avoiding crushing her foot. A heavy sigh escaped her.

"Here, stupid!"

Bakura looked up to barely catch the hunk of metal barreling at her. Down the road, she saw a gloved hand giving her the bird.

God, she adored that tramp.

Inspecting the precious cargo, it was an engraved pocket knife. Same one from earlier. The script was in another language, one she never saw before. Despite the mystery, the gift was beautiful.

A part of her hated lying to Malikah about her defamation in England. How could she possibly tell the truth? She did not completely lie but it still sat wrong on her chest.

"Excuse me, miss. I need help finding my glasses. I hope no one stepped on them." An older man stood a few feet away from her.

She nodded, feeling suspicious though thankful for this distraction.

"Thank you, the spot I dropped them is right up there. The street light broke so I cannot see."

Entering the dark space she realize there was an alleyway beside them and a few men awaiting her. Turning to see more men approaching on the street.

"We don't want no trouble."

She cradled the knife in her pocket, "Me either."


	4. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yellow is quite the happy color. So much so that it's a bit too happy. Things that are too happy are just plain unsettling. No wonder it has interpretations of jealousy and caution. Yellow is a merrily suspicious color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have a happy holiday and a great new year if I don't post before then. Life and school has slowed down my writing quite a bit but I hope to finish this within a month or two. I hope you'll stick with me :)

Bakura smoked a cigarette, holding the home phone to her ear, "You're still mad at me?"

Malikah merely hummed a yes. Bakura could imagine her smug face.

"Shouldn't you be happy I didn't take advantage of you?" She said taking note of the many dishes she had to clean. She recognized a few from weeks ago. It was rather surprising she didn't have pests.

"Are you listening!" She wasn't after the third time she was called a 'unforgivable soggy baguette'. "I'm pent up and it is your fault."

Her voice was full of spite. Bakura simply sighed, "How do I make it up to you? Despite the fact I have been trying for weeks."

The woman sucked her teeth, "There's a place I want to go to. You drive?"

"I do."

"Then tomorrow you will pick me up and we will go there."

"Malikah! I'm not your henchman!"

The dancer hissed, "Watch it! I'm in a phone booth!"

Oh right, her oh so dangerous name. Bollocks.

"Ishtar." She corrected herself, "My point still stands, I'm not some crony."

"You said you'd make it up to me! Are you a liar, Bakura!"

She bent her cigarette out of annoyance, "What, no!"

"Then I suggest you keep your word! Eight sharp, I'll come to your house."

Taking inventory of the apartment, she found there was far too much inventory, "No!" Malikah would massacre her over this place being so cluttered.

"Then you'll come get me!"

The albino let out a frustrated cry, "I don't have a damned car!" She screamed, finally fed up with Malikah.

She merely screamed back, "Ask Ryou!"

The phone clicked ending their tiff.

Bakura could have simply ignored Malikah altogether, considering she was a nuisance and headache waiting to happen. That would not work because of the sheer desperation in the blonde. She wanted all of Bakura's attention yet made it seem like she wanted none. If Bakura stopped seeing her, she'd be sought out and… that would end unfortunately.

It was a good thing she had a set soon, she would talk to Ryou then. For now, she would finish reading Malikah's short story. She was amazing with suspense in her gothic short stories. There was plenty of stories in the notebook she borrowed but the horror ones were by far the best. They made Bakura wonder what her friend had seen to inspire such tales.

Who knew?

Malikah was secretive. Very much so. Upon speaking to Rishid, their current middleman due to her banishment from the club, she found out Malikah never had a lasting friendship. She moved too often for any connection to be made. New York seemed to be a permanent home but she wanted nothing more than to leave.

'She's an odd bird. Never gets what she wants but never lowers her expectations. I worry over her. Mademoiselle will never get what she desires most."

Of course, there was a reasoning for his words but she did not know what that reasoning was.

Between the both of them were far too many secrets.

* * *

Bakura finished her performance receiving less applause than usual. It didn't bother her, her mind was too preoccupied with finding a car.

"Excuse me, tiger."

A few of her usual drunks were waving her to a table. Whatever they wanted she doubted it would be worthwhile.

"Ey, sailors."

"What is up with your music nowadays?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Pardon?"

"It has been sounding like that loud racket from Harlem." One man said, scornfully. He nudged his friend.

Said friend seemed to be a bold one saying, "I'd go to the zoo if I wanted to hear the monkeys playing." The rest joined in the laughter.

Bakura stared at the men, what could she possibly do to regain their good favor.

"That new music not cutting it, fellas?" They nodded, "How about I sing a different ditty?"

"Sounds good to me!" The other drunkards agreed.

She walked over to the band, telling them the song and a melody. They looked surprised but amused. Upon taking the stage again, she saw Ryou and Yugi stop their working to watch her in confusion.

"Real quick everyone. I want to do a quick little ditty for these fellas in the front."

Said men cheered.

"Haha. They told me my music was getting too colored. I understand. I'll fix that with this song."

She nodded towards the band, "Whoa Black Betty! Bam ma lam!"

Every jaw in the building dropped.

"She really me hot, bam ma lam! Y'know that's no lie!"

Ryou howled laughing in the back, sliding down the wall amused.

"The way she shakes that thing, bam ma lam, boy she makes me sing!"

The men stood up, the slightly sober ones dragging the infuriated drunks towards the door.

Bakura continued the song joined by Ryou who danced like a mess on stage. They laughed, leaning on each other, "Oh, Bakura! You showed those idiots. They seem like the type to hold a pencil with their whole hand."

"Excuse me?"

"Gezuntheit. Whew, I'm sweating like a priest in an all boys school."

This exchange was the exact reason they did not speak. Ryou was not a normal human. He spoke like a body snatcher. Bakura knew her true cousin was somewhere out there while this doppelganger impersonated him.

"You have to tell Ishtar about this! She will die laughing."

Ishtar…right. The relationship between Malikah and Ryou made Bakura wonder. What was the extent of their dealings? Acquaintances, friends, or…something less fortunate for her. Ryou did not seem to have romantic feelings for anyone but that did not stop him from flirting with everyone. They seemed chummy with their inside jokes and obscure innuendos.

"Hey, uh." She hesitated, "Do you," His eyes were on her peering with curiosity, "Have a car?" She couldn't confront him on this matter. Ryou had done a lot for her. It was not fair to question him.

He blinked, "No but I know people. Need one?"

She nodded.

The feeling of regret filled her. Why could she never conquer herself? Pushing the problems down just made her prone to releasing them all at once. She would hurt someone like this.

Again.

Ryou put a hand on her shoulder, "When do you need it by?"

"Uh tomorrow actually. Ishtar needs it."

"Oh. Sure I'll have it by the morning then."

She nodded, turning to go upstairs.

"Bakura."

"Hm?"

He smiled, "We're family. Don't forget that."

"How could I? We're two albinos. If we weren't related, that's a hell of a coincidence."

Ryou laughed once more, "True." He decided to let her go, "Remember I'm here for you. You're not alone. I know our family issue is daunting but know you can confide in me."

"Right." She said, climbing the staircase. As usual she moved behind the changing wall.

"Bakura. That was quite the jumping music. Someone has been happy lately."

"Happy? I've been busy, lately."

"Maybe that's good for you." He said, flipping through the paper, "Ah, another murder. It happens so often these days."

Bakura slowed in her movements.

"This time they found a whole group stabbed to death. Reminds me, couple months ago that murder case happened with the man's body found stabbed in the river. It seems like a bunch of people were killed with the same MO."

She peeked out, angrily from the board. He was facing the window, reading aloud the gruesome accounts.

"Why does it matter? People die."

"This could be a serial killer." He concluded from the article, "I used to be a detective. Why if I had some clues, I could figure out who did it."

Could he really?

She hands clenched around a nearby candlestick. She quietly padded her way closer to him, lifting the heavy metal above her head. One swing was all that would do it.

"I'm too old anyway. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast."

Bakura wasn't convinced. She knew better. One hit. Run away. Repeat.

"I should tell Ryou about this new one. He's been quite interested in this case."

She scowled, hearing her cousin's name.

The old man owns the bar. Damn, that would hurt Ryou. She couldn't hurt his livelihood like that over something trivial. She doubted the old man could solve the case even if he tried. If he did, so what? She knew people to handle that.

She retraced her steps back to the changing wall, wondering if any choice she made was right.

* * *

Bakura knocked on the window, sitting on the railing to the fire escape. She watched as Malikah quickly stalked over to the window from her bed. There was a roller set in her hair and a silky slip over her body.

"What are you doing!" she whispered, angrily.

"You will never guess what I just did."

"Besides climb my fire escape?" Malikah looked back into the room then crawled outside. Bakura helped her onto the landing. She closed her window, "My sister will kill you."

Bakura shut her up with a kiss, only to be pushed away, "Are you listening, you bumbling buffoon!"

"I defended your honor!" She blurted out.

Malikah's gaze was a judgmental one, it clearly said 'Are you on opium?'.

"Listen, I was singing. My music has been getting jazzy lately. A couple of lousy bastards tried to disrespect the music and Harlem. I showed them what for!"

"Did you now? Butt me."

By instinct at this point, she pulled out her pack of gaspers and a match, "I sure did."

The blonde lit her cigarette, taking a long drag she continued, "What did you do? Punch them, kick them, maybe a little tantrum?"

"I took no moves from your book." She laughed, "I sung that song you always sing when you are working. It felt like an ode to you! Despite your piss poor attitude. That song, uh Black Betty, I believe." She looked over the woman only to find her frozen in place.

"Excuse me?"

Bakura was confused by her reaction, "Black Betty. I sung that. The one about the stellar black woman."

"Black Betty isn't really a woman." The dancer sighed.

She was thoroughly confused now.

Malikah looked down at her cigarette, "It is a southern work song I picked up from Louisiana. Black Betty refers to a whip."

Bakura felt like the biggest idiot. Wanting to sing about the vixen in front of her, she compared her to a whip.

"I'm a fool."

"No, you're not. From the verses, I see your mistake. I never realized because it was taught to me. The man who sung it said Black Betty can mean anything. They used the name to describe a whip."

"They made that whip sound like one foxy dame."

Malikah laughed, throwing her head back. Bakura smiled, still embarrassed but feeling a bit better. At least she knew it was an honest mistake.

"Well, that still makes you my little knight, huh? I haven't had someone defend my honor before. What should I do for our cute hero?" She smirked, tilting her head. Her current pose was playfully seductive. She leaned back against her window, the strap of her nightgown hanging off her smooth shoulder.

Bakura leaned closer, "You look ravishing." She took in her scent of cocoa butter.

Malikah merely shrugged a shoulder, "Should've ravished me when you had the chance."

"Can my reward be your forgiveness?" She snaked her arms around her waist, sliding against her satin slip. She felt relief as Malikah's arms found their way to her neck. She smirked.

"You're a real piece of work." She puffed a cloud of smoke as she spoke.

"I know."

Malikah giggled, "But you're still my hero. So…take your reward." With a single hand, she guided Bakura's hand to her breasts.

Lips only an inch away, she wanted to conquer them.

"Go on. Take it."

They intertwined, caressing each other. Lips locked together in a dance, their hips rocked against each other. The cool summer air felt good, blowing past them. Bakura's coat flapping with the wind.

Malikah pulled away to catch her breath. She liked the sight in front of her. The dark contrast from the golden street light made Bakura look like a predator of some type. A lioness or panther, something of the likes. There was something odd about her tonight. The hesitance in her was whittled away. All that self entrapment was gone. Bakura was Bakura and Malikah quite enjoyed that.

A pale finger teased her jaw, running downwards to her neck. Between her collarbone, along her chest, teasingly over her breasts. Traveling past the navel, the one finger became five pressing against her pelvis.

Their eyes met. A question was asked with the raise of a brow. 'Can I go farther?' With a nod, she received permission. She kissed her neck tenderly.

"Sister!"

What in the devil's name!

"Farah said there was a thump coming from your room! Everything okay!"

Damn this house of all hearing snitches!

Malikah opened her window, "I'm just fine. Go away!" She turned back to Bakura to resume.

"Why is your door locked? Are you that mad!"

"Go the hell away! I'll kill you, I swear I will!" She was panting, gripping Bakura's shoulder in desperation. Her body shook as the albino nibbled her collarbone.

"Just talk to me!"

Malikah bit her lip, groaning.

"I'm getting my key!"

Panic spread throughout the both of them.

"Run!" Malikah barely whispered. Bakura caught her drift and quickly descended the fire escape as the dancer crawled through her window.

"It's freezing in here!" Isis' voice boomed.

"I'm smoking what do you expect, you loon!"

"At two in the morning! Take your ass to sleep!"

The sisters argued loudly enough for the noise of Bakura's escape to be cancelled out. Reaching the opening to the alleyway, she glanced up. The damn child was staring at her. That brat deserved something good.

She held up her arm, like she was making a muscle then slammed her opposite fist on her forearm.

The kid just blinked then pointed at her with all five fingers.

What the hell was that?

"And another thing! Stop leaving your window open, any pervert could see you and climb up!"

…

She was a pervert climbing up to see her! Bakura shamefully stumbled away feeling physically affected by her words.

Grabbing a taxi a few blocks down, she grew giddy about their date. It would be worthwhile no matter what it was.

…that's the lie she told herself at least.

* * *

Bakura made sure she was on time.

The car was parked outside the club and out came the blonde in a bright yellow dress with a low neckline that revealed her collarbone. It was loose around her only bunching up around her belt hugging lowly on her hips. It was possibly the most casual thing she owned.

Malikah flopped into the car, throwing her stuff in the back seat, "Did you hear!" She all but screamed.

Bakura wanted earplugs, "About?"

She held up the paper. The headline was about the murders of a few gangsters in an alleyway. It sent shivers down her spine, "A few assholes got what came to them. What about it?" She tried not to sound defensive.

"Huh? Oh, I do not give a damn about that! Look beside it! Another Broadway whore is having an affair with a billionaire!"

Was Malikah being a prude about an affair? That was where she crossed the line? Her loyalty was admirable but-

"Why can't it be me!"

That made more sense.

"He'd take her to Paris. God, I'm so piping mad!" She threw slapped the dashboard with the paper.

"This is a rental, you dingbat!"

"Whatever. Then these idiots went and got themselves killed."

Bakura looked over to her, "You knew them!" It was the idiot mobsters from the other night.

"To an extent. They worked under me at an old job. A couple of wild beasts. I always had to keep a knife on me around them. I'm glad they are dead despite the trouble it will give me." She flung her hand open, "My knife."

Right! "Here," Pulling out a pocket knife from her jacket, she handed it over in a hurry. Malikah held her in place, "Thanks." She looked her in her eyes, "Thank you for that."

Those words held a lot of weight. A few different meanings along with it.

"Go straight and turn on 19th street."

Bakura, realizing it was best to be silent, simply drove off.

* * *

With the top down and the sun beaming down, they sped along the highway.

Bakura glanced over quickly to Malikah. Her blonde hair flapped behind her, glowing with the sunlight.

"You know," She got her attention, "I think you were built for the sunshine instead of the night."

The woman chuckled, "Why do you say so?"

"You're radiant! This natural light is better suited for you. The stage could not compete."

"Really? Well I think it's quite the opposite for you. Last night you were quite enchanting in the moonlight. I much prefer that over all this light. You're a bit too yellow now."

"I'm yellow?"

"With your white complexion, you end up becoming any color the light is. It is amusing."

"I should join the freakshow." Bakura snickered.

"Only if I can come with you and lion tame. I love exotic animals." She shook her head at a fond memory, "Lions, tigers and bears excite me."

"Snakes too apparently."

"I love my baby. He's a cobra, you know! A king cobra!"

Feigning despair, "Where do I fit if there's already a king and queen!"

Malikah played her game, "You. You were nothing but a lowly bodyguard but…I can no longer hide my feelings for you, my knight!"

Bakura, a fan of theatrics played along, "Run with me. Far, far away will the king will never find us."

…

No reply came for minutes.

"If only I could." Came a faint whisper

* * *

Bakura parked the car in the dirt lot on the edge of a sunflower field, "So…what are we doing here?"

"Having a picnic." Malikah retrieved the basket from the backseat, "Come, come." Rushing past her, leading the chase.

Bakura followed after. Moments into the chase falling behind, "Wait!" She yelled, getting lost in the fields of yellow. The giggles of her companion became lost in the flowers. Her feet slowed down, realizing it was a futile attempt.

"Malikah?" She called. With no reply she yelled louder, "Malikah!"

Wondering for a few moments, she found it futile to keep searching, "Malikah!" She tried once more to no avail. It was a nightmare. Surrounded by the creepily cheery flowers only heightened her anxiety of being abandoned. Every way she turned there was the same scene, like a cruel hall of mirrors at a fun house. The fear in her built itself up, choking her. She couldn't breathe, she was spinning. Panic. She was panicking. Sweat dripped from her face.

She just might faint.

"Bakura~"

Where!

She jerked up, shambling through the fields, "Where are you!" She fell to her knees, dizzied by her own fears. The flowers around her spun like a kaleidoscope, mocking her pain.

"Hehehe, Bakura…"

She had to find her, she had to find her, she had to find h-

"Hurry up." The disembodied voice commanded her.

She heeded the order, standing up on her shaky legs.

In a state of crazed desperation, she pulled out her switchblade, slicing the stalks of the obnoxious flowers. There was a satisfaction in it. She did it again. Her victim fell to the ground with a soft thud.

"Bakura~"

She'd cut the entire field so she would never lose Malikah again. She slashed her way through the innocent sunflowers, feeling more satisfied with each dismembered body.

"Huh? I suppose I expected as much."

She turned behind her to she the woman with a frown on her face. Her eyes looked bored.

"Oh. There you are." She said rather sheepishly. "I thought I lost you." She tried to regain her composure enough to stand straight enough, "Well. Guess I found you." What an embarrassing situation.

The woman scoffed "Obviously. That was the plan. I wanted to see your approach to the situation. Someone close to me did a similar test to me."

"Test?"

Malikah pulled out her pocket watch, "Yes, to determine your loyalty and problem solving. When trying to achieve or find what you want or need, how do you go about it?"

Bakura was furious about being toyed with again by her, "Why! What the hell do you play such sick games with me! You make me so mad, I could kill you!" She screamed. The hand holding her blade twitched, eagerly.

"Exactly." She said. A smug look spread along her face, "Follow me."

Bakura took a breath, combing her bangs back with her fingers, "Why should I, so you can give me a heart attack?"

Malikah looked over her shoulder, her hair gleaming in the sunlight, "Is it my fault if you caused it yourself?"

That only drove her farther up a wall.

"C'mon, let's eat." She held up the basket, "I'll stay in sight, we are just going up a hill." Her empty hand outstretched behind her in a gesture of good faith.

Bakura wasn't sure if she should take it. Does anyone truly shake the hand of the devil without hesitation?

She grabbed the hand, allowing herself to be led. And as they walked, her mind wandered to a darker place. If she were to kill the star, how would she do it? Malikah was strong so any physical fight would fail. Unless sudden. No, she had good reflexes. Maybe poison? That could work. It lacked the luster her death would need.

How would Malikah Issar die?

As the woman pulled her, she felt the knife in her hand growing heavier.

It wasn't a knife to the back.

She retracted the blade, pocketing it.

"So you won't kill me now?" Malikah asked, not turning to her in the slightest.

"No. Not the time." Bakura admitted.

"I'll give you the right opening. Just wait." She stopped, "Be careful, this hill is steep."

They climbed the hill, using each other as support. From the top of the hill, the fields became a muddled pool of yellow.

"What an obnoxious color."

Malikah laughed, opening her basket. She pulled out a blanket with green and white checkers, "Grab the other end."

They spread out the blanket, taking a seat in the middle. "I made sandwiches but I brought ingredients for you to make your own. Ham fine? I was stumped on what lunch meat to buy you."

"Ham is perfect. What sandwiches did you already make?"

"Nut butter and Banana sandwich."

Bakura scoffed, "A bit childish, aren't we?"

"Well bread and cheese reminds me of poverty." She pouted.

"We have meat."

"I don't eat meat."

Bakura was taken aback, "You do not eat meat? Why?"

"Just never did. I think I've developed an aversion to it. When I smell it, I get sick." Malikah took a bite from her sandwich, "Plus this is fine, you're a snob."

As a carnivore, Bakura felt personally offended by her dietary choices.

"Tell me, what really happened in England?"

"What?" The shock got the better of her, "What ever do you mean?"

"Why did you leave?"

She narrowed her eyes, "Financial reasons. No gigs and the lack of jobs. I already told you."

Malikah sighed, "Whatever. Ryou told me already." She pulled her hat off, leaning back on an arm.

Bakura stared at her, "Told you what?"

"Your family issue." She chomped off a piece of sandwich, "The whole mobster thing."

"He told you."

She nodded, "Of course, he did."

"Are you sleeping with him?" She blurted out in a state of shock.

Malikah glared at her, seemingly offended, "Excuse me?"

"He has no reason to tell you my business, unless he got something out of it."

"Well it was not my blooming flower."

Bakura scoffed, "More like your overplucked petals." She immediately felt a sharp sting on her hand, knowing it to be the slice of a knife.

"Watch your tongue." It was a command that left no suggestion.

Red dripped onto the green grass.

"I only ask you to tell me what happened to understand you better. It's a matter of trust and loyalties. I hold no bearing to those I do not trust." She said matter of factly, wiping the blood on a hanky.

Bakura did not ask for her stupid trust. Much less her loyalty. What Malikah did outside their time together was none of her business. Vice versa.

"Why!" She felt her rage boil up and the words she usually swallowed came back with a vengeance, "Why are you doing any of this!" Her voice grew impassioned, "Why test me! Why trust me! Why even talk to me! What in the hell do you what with me, Malikah!" She realized that by the end she was yelling.

Said woman simply stared off into the sea of yellow. Indifference abundant in her appearance, she continued to eat her sandwich. Then suddenly as if she had remembered something she forgot, "Oh, you finished your spiel." She looked over at her, "The reason for all this… I suppose I like you."

…

…

What.

"You seem surprised."

Bakura rubbed her temples, heat rushed to her cheeks, "I thought you did not like anything."

"I don't like anything, I like you." She clarified, "Well, a part of you. Ryou told me so many stories about an amazing thief and singer. I like that bold part of you. I don't very much like that part of you that wants to hide."

"I have to hide."

"Why?" She pouted.

"Because of what Ryou told you!"

Malikah crossed her arms over her chest, "You are a wet blanket."

Was she speaking to a brick wall? No because a brick wall was more absorbent than her thick skull.

"So why'd you kill your understudy?" The blonde asked, casually with the intrigue of a kid.

"Same as I told you before. She put me out the job with her lies so I put her six feet under with my knife."

"Hm."

Bakura scoffed, "Don't believe me?"

"I'm wondering why she hated you so much. Jealousy over a role doesn't lead to ending someone else's career." She mused.

"Well, I may have stolen her position in the troupe as primadonna."

Malikah looked more interested than ever before, "How?"

"The leader of the troupe was a gambling man who came into the pub looking for a come up. I could tell he had money and kept the booze flowing as I challenged him to cards. We were playing a game and he had gone in debt, money gone for the night. So he wagered his troupe (supposedly the high stakes would push him enough to win) then losing it all in an unlucky hand. Upon first thought, I was excited then I realized how much work that truly meant. I did not want the hassle of a business so I instead told him if I became the lead, he could keep it."

"So you put her out the job and she returned the favor?"

Bakura nodded, "She still had a job, it just wasn't what she wanted. I earned my position as primadonna, her vocals were mediocre at best."

Malikah voiced her curiosity with a 'hmm' "So after that night she betrayed you. What did you do?"

"Kill her. Obviously."

"How? Did you gut her like a fish? Bash her brains into soup? Pull the brakes from her car?" Her violet eyes shimmered as she spoke about the macabre.

"Nothing special. I merely attended her show and watched as the chandelier swung slightly above her. It seemed to creak as the curtains opened, the ropes holding both up were strained."

"So I returned giving a slice to the rope holding the chandelier. One slice while the crowd was ushered into their seats, one during the first intermission, another in the second intermission and I save the last for the next day. So during her Turandot solo, I gave one last chop, stopping her pitchy high c from killing anyone else."

Malikah laughed, "A grand ending to a grand schemer!"

Bakura shrugged, "So my family sent me here to lay low but I'm not eager to return. I know they will make me the head of the family."

"You…don't want the gang? Ryou said it's pretty large and lucrative."

"I just want to sing. I like to live free, I can't go anywhere if I'm trapped in the family business." She shook her head, "I think I'm done with crime…you made me realize there's more to life."

"You'll give it all up?"

"Yes. To free myself."

Malikah stared at her, eyes full of an unreadable emotion, "I need someone like you with me!" She blurted out.

Bakura blushed. Murder was a surprising qualification to courting.

"I asked Ryou. He said you'd be perfect for me."

She even had family approval.

"So there's only one thing left to ask."

This was overwhelming yet joyous! Finally with her feelings recognized, they would move forward.

"Please do a duet with me!"

….

…

…wha.

"You have the moxie I need to stay motivated. I want to be a duo! My sister doesn't believe in me much but I think she'll give you a shot! You're willing to do what it takes to be a star!"

Bakura was still stuck on the supposed dating part.

"Join me, won't you."

How does one simply bypass all common decency to not psychologically upper cut someone with emotions they never wanted in the first place.

"I'll consider it." She mumbled.

Malikah grinned, "Perfect! We'll be excellent together."

"Yea, yea."

"What's wrong?"

Instead of bottling up her emotions, she decided to confront her main problem, "What am I to you?"

"My partner."

"Nothing more? We've kissed, gone on dates, snuck around to see each other. Am I just entertainment?"

The girl blinked, surprised at her words. She sat for a moment to find an appropriate response, "I've heard before I make people feel like toys. I may have sought you out for fun but I genuinely believe we suit each other."

"As what?"

"I…I can't commit to you as a lover should. I'd like to-"

"Then do so." Bakura interrupted, in a hurry to end this conversation. The feeling of rejection set in.

"I can't." Malikah reiterated, "With a situation like I'm in now…it wouldn't be fair to you."

"What situation! Why don't you tell me anything!"

The blonde leaned on her side, covering her eyes from the blaring sunshine, "You'd be just as trapped as I am." She sighed, "Besides, our relationship would be like yellow mums."

"Just tell me you don't feel the same about me! Just say I'm only a friend to you. I'd rather that truth than your other lies." Bakura whispered, hoping for anything to make her feel less broken.

"I want to kiss you."

That shocked her.

"I want to hug you. I want to caress you and make love until dawn. I want to hold you tight and call you mine. I want to stab anyone who sways your attention from me. I want every second of every day to be with you…" She hummed, "I think I'd make a bad friend with feelings like those." Malikah looked at her, reaching out for her hand, "Just because I cannot act on them, doesn't make my feelings any less real."

Bakura stared into her fanciful eyes, "How long must I wait?"

She leaned forward, face to face, noses brushing. "Not much longer. Just give me time, I promise to turn those yellow mums into zinnia."

Whatever that meant, she hoped it was good.

* * *

Malikah entered the office building on Wall Street. She walked straight to the elevator, ignoring the receptionist calling for her to wait.

"You know the floor." She said to the operator, loosening the head scarf's pull on her neck.

"How lovely to see the Mrs. Those shades look snazzy." He said, pushing and pulling what he needed to. His hunched back straightened as he worked.

"Why thank you, Hank." Despite her infinite love of Hank, her nerves still shook her, "I'm speaking with the Boss today. Wish me luck."

The small slits of his eyes curved upwards into a smile, "You don't even have to say it, I'm always wishing the best for you."

Why couldn't she marry Hank!

With a ding, the door opened. "I'll be back soon." She stated, exiting.

The old man laughed, "Alrighty, bye bye now."

She loved him.

Walking along the tile floors, she noticed the vases filled with yellow dahlias. She hated what they meant for her. She hated more that he sent them.

Reaching the end of the hallway to the double doors, she knocked swiftly entering upon the third knock. There he was.

"Hi, darling." She said.

"Hello, Malikah."

There he was…her darling husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls leave a comment or a kudos! It really motivates me. Thank you, bye bye!


	5. Lime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemons & Limes go hand in hand. They are both tangy and tart, a bitter choice. Though despite their bitterness they are refreshing. Lime is a good in betweener for Yellow & Green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a 'filler' chapter. The events of the next chapter are further in the timeline and certain events couldn't just be alluded to so thus this chapter was born.
> 
> Warning!: this chapter mentions suicide, murder, slurs and drugs. Read at your own discretion

"Oh, speak of the devil." The dancer's father-in-law chuckled as she entered the room.

Malikah did not like that. What could have been said about her? She was not eager to find out. After all, she came here to speak to her husband.

She watched the young man she came to see and his old father sitting across from him. Looking dapper in his white suit, he sat sternly behind his cherrywood desk. The stress of a company aged him slightly yet not to the extent one would assume. Premature grey hairs were slicked into the brown locks as proof. He waited for her to speak.

"Hello, Seto. Hello, Mr. Kaiba." She said, shutting the heavy oak door behind her.

"Malikah, please come take a seat. I was just having a business meeting with my father. How wonderful of you to visit."

That meant: what do you want.

She decided to stay standing, preferring not to be bound by a chair, "I merely wanted to check on you, bring you lunch, y'know. I brought some really good tuna fish sandwiches." She turned to his father, "I apologize Mr. Kaiba, I would have brought you a sandwich." She tried to speak as apologetically as she could muster.

"Forget it!" The tycoon roared in his gruff, mighty voice, "I'm just happy to see you two in such a happy marriage. You're doing a great job at maintaining the estate."

Heh, that was the cleaning lady she sent. She, herself, hadn't cleaned that house in years. She barely even went there.

Kaiba Sr. was not one to simply compliment someone. No, he had no time for that. He had an agenda. Everything he did was calculated, he was a man of tests and results.

"Despite that, I only wish for one thing from you."

She expected this spiel.

"Children." He cut the tip of his cigar, holding it between his lips. He waited, looking knowingly at her.

She had to calm herself internally as she pulled her lighter from her pocket and lit his cigar. She wondered if she dropped it, would he catch enough fire to melt his mouth. The thought brought a sparkling smile to her face.

The man ignored whatever wry happiness she had, "You keep one on hand?"

Damn it, that was another test, "Bad habit. Very improper of me." She turned off the flame and stood straight.

Kaiba Sr. tested her with every visit. Why? To decide whether or not to keep her. She picked up the habit herself, she tested people too. A test or two was fine, one for every meeting was excessive. For that reason and many more, she hated him. She passed his tests, not how he wanted though. She was always his 'unexpected variation'.

"It is a habit that must be stopped before you have my grandchild." He held his hand out as though she were a child caught with contraband.

Malikah never won the award for obedient child. 'Most likely to rip your ear off' held a spot on her shelf. And now she'd live up to the title.

Seto finally doing something worth her time, tapped his pen on the desk. Two, three, three, one. That's all she needed to hear.

"Thank you for saving me from myself." She pulled her carton of cigarettes from her purse. 'Oh, I'll miss you.' As he took them from her, she felt his cold, calloused hands. 'If you're going to be an asshole, make sure you're a soft one.' She grimly thought to herself.

"As I was saying," Gag her with a spoon, "Seto and I have discussed time and time again his last requirement is to have a successor ready if he were to inherit the company."

Malikah nodded, "We simply do not have time for a child. Seto works far too much to be able to see them."

The old man scoffed at her, "Child care is your job! His role is minimal. A baby is exactly what you need to feel like a proper woman."

She didn't know he was an expert. She also didn't know if he'd suspect the stabbing he was going to receive. She gripped the switchblade in her pocket.

Seto stood up, wrapping an arm around her waist. He held her knife hand in place, "Father, Malikah is the perfect wife. Mokuba can be my successor."

"No, that is not the tradition. The company goes to the next generation firstborn. No exceptions."

They both tensed in each other's arms.

"We'll try our best, father." The man said, void of emotion, as usual.

"No." The tall, burly man stood from his seat, "Do better than that." He walked to the door, clearly done with that business, "And Malikah?"

"Yes, sir?" She looked up to meet his eye.

"You should be happy to be in this family. We took you in graciously, you would have never had such an opportune life if not for me."

Malikah felt nothing but hatred for the man, "Right. I would have been lost without your kindness."

"At least, you still know that." He turned to the door, "Don't wear so much makeup either. Clowns belong in the circus."

"Of course…sir."

He nodded in approval, making his exit. As the door shut and the footsteps faded, they scrambled towards the door to listen. The elevator dinged and when the metal clanked closed, they sighed in relief.

"I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL!" She screamed back at him through the door.

Set lazily glared at her, "I have a headache." He pulled his tie from his neck, throwing it beside him.

"Boo hoo, poor Set has a headache! Give me a break." She took off her blazer, revealing her skin tight turtleneck "Your father would have a heart attack if I dressed normally."

"Any good man's heart would stop seeing you." He said, returning to his desk.

"I don't exactly see you convulsing."

That brought the usual scowl to his face, "What do you want?"

"Besides my cigarettes?"

Seto opened a compartment, rummaged around, then slapped her a new carton down onto his desk, "Here."

She kicked her heels off, walking over to sit on his desk. The pack had that new smoke smell that she loved. Tearing into it felt like a kid on Christmas, " Light me." She commanded, holding out a cigarette.

The man pulled out his matches, obliging her. He snatched a gasper for himself despite her grunt of protest. With sweet nicotine in their lungs, the stress of procreation left.

Much like his father, he too had an agenda, "You never come and see me here. Unless it's business, however."

He was right, she drove (more like driven) to his estate to see him around holidays and Sunday dinners. They had a general agreement to avoid each other for both their sake. They generally remained like-minded but their personalities clashed far too harshly.

"This _is_ business."

"What, trouble on your front of the company?"

How dare he imply she'd ever run into trouble. She ran that business like a prison warden, "No. That's running fine. A few lackeys were killed but they annoyed me anyway." She redirected her next words, "Remember that plan you thought up, about getting the Brits on our team."

Seto rolled his eyes at her stupid question, "Yes because it is in fact the plan you are currently doing."

She sighed, dreading this conversation, "What if I can't seduce the leader?"

"We'll send a different broad." He said as though it were clear as day.

"What if I don't want that either?"

"Excuse me?" Seto asked, dumbfounded.

Malikah sheepishly twiddled her thumbs, "She's really on the up and up. I don't even think she wants the family business!"

He glared at her, "Exactly as Ryou told us, your job is to remind her of the wiles of crime."

Well she did the opposite…

"I just don't think I should be playing with her heart like this! I'm a hard drug to quit, afterall." She joked, nervously laughing in hopes he would calm down.

He did not.

Seto was not the most…easy going fellow. He hated compromise and change. A rigid systematic man. That's where they clashed. It's as if Malikah somehow obtained both his and her own rations for emotions. He lacked any, she had too many.

"What's your damage?" He hissed.

Malikah shook her head, growing increasingly nervous by the tone of his voice, "Nothing!"

"You're getting cold feet." His tone was accusatory.

"I'm not!" she defended herself, realizing it only made her look more guilty.

"You are. The only question is why?" He stood up, looking her up and down, "Fear?... no. Your sense of caution is busted. Boredom? Maybe but you seem busier now than over. Maybe…" He looked her in the eye with a look so intense she had to look away, "Aha. Guilt. So I give you cupid's arrow and you miss your mark and shoot yourself."

She had fucked up big time. This was a big deal. Their plans depended on this. Her plans depended on this! But…

" I can't do this."

"You will throw away all our years of planning and strife for someone you just met! You'll give up your freedom so some princess playing pauper can laze around on her ass! We worked hard to be at this point! All we need is allegiance from the mob over in London and we are set. With Egypt, America and Britain we can finally gain control of everything. We could be free!"

Malikah closed her eyes and tried to image freedom.

The French Rivera, a glass of champagne in her hand, as she stared out upon the bright blue. The breeze would blow her hair off her face and the sun would set to make her glow. As she'd finish her glass, a bottle would appear keeping it full. On the other end of the bottle would be the pool boy but it wasn't. Oh no it wasn't. It was…

"I can't." She repeated, opening her eyes slowly. The dream hurt far too much.

Seto scowled, "What do you suppose we do? If I were to even keep you in the deal."

"That's truly why I'm here." She snapped herself from the daze of her daydream, "Plan B. I'm willing to do majority of the manual work if you handle the paper trail."

He seemed taken aback, "You're not yanking my chain?"

"No. I'm all in." She said simply.

Seto amusedly huffed, "She must be working magic on you."

"Must be. Or maybe after ten years of your shrill whining, I'm simply willing to do anything to run away."

"Whatever the reason, I embrace the change. I'm ready to remove myself from under his thumb sooner rather than later."

"We both are."

They stared at each other. A common thread was tied between them. As usual, they were on the same page. Despite his critical view of Malikah, he trusted her. Vice versa.

She extended her hand towards him with a slight grin, "Till death." Jutting out her pinky, she recited their favorite part of the vows.

With a huff of amusement, he grasped her finger with his own, "Till death."

"Guess that's a deal."

* * *

"Why the sudden change in hygiene?" Ryou asked, shoveling trash into a plastic bag.

Bakura had called him and asked if he'd help clean her apartment. He was surprised. Bakura always had an unhealthy attachment to junk much like a magpie.

"Ishtar. If she came over, she'd have a cow."

"I'm sure. She's not one for clutter." He knew very well she was prissy about cleanliness.

"Right."

Casually he tried, "So…how's it going? Y'know like romance wise…"

She scoffed, washing her dishes, "Is that a conversation between cousins?"

"Can be. So how's the ol' lower mouth doing?"

Bakura hated him. She hated that he said words, if he was mute he'd increase in value.

Recovering from that verbal assault, she scolded him, "Never say that again."

"How's her tunnel of love treating you?"

"Stop."

"Just spill the beans!"

She groaned, "No beans to spill here! She won't commit because she has super secret bullshit keeping her from it! I think she's pulling wool over my eyes."

"Oh. She's not." He said, confused over whether or not to throw out the hat Aunt Kiko sent. It was hideous though sentimental.

"You…know her secret?"

Ryou decided to throw it out, "Mhm. I know a few of them."

Bakura had enough, "What's your relationship?" She blurted out. She stomped into the living room to meet him.

Ryou stopped cleaning, "Oh no. Please do not think I am a love rival. We have been friends for years, if I had any attraction towards her, she'd be mine."

He said it with such certainty and confidence, it pissed her off.

"Ishtar simply is in a tough situation right now. I find it rather out of character for her to care enough not to become your lover."

"Explain."

He shrugged, "Many have courted her while she's stuck in her problem. They are flings. Apparently she's saving you for later when she's in a better place. You must be worth keeping."

Bakura scoffed at the sentiment. He made it sound like she was an object, "I won't wait forever."

"Yes because there's so many women breaking down your door. Let's be honest. She's out of your league and the only woman to give you the light of day."

Did she mention she hated him?

"Before I forget! Why did you tell her about the family business!"

"Hm? Oh that. We've told each other everything. It's a trust thing and I trust her. I'm more involved in the business than you anyway."

"I'm still the head."

Ryou knew, that was the source of all their problems.

"You are."

* * *

After about a week

"You have an acting role?" Bakura asked, baffled.

"Yes."

Malikah sat at her writing desk, script in hand, "It's a short scene for a play of sorts."

Bakura had snuck up the fire escape once more. This time the family had left for the grocery store so they had time to relax.

"What's your role!" This was her specialty after all being an opera singer.

"A distraught woman, mourning the loss of a father. It's second nature by now."

"What is?"

"Being distraught."

Bakura rolled her eyes, "Dramatic is your name."

The woman shrugged a shoulder.

"Could I help you? We could practice."

Malikah smiled, "Of course! I love that idea. This scene is mostly improvised so you have no definite lines."

"Describe the scene, I'll think something up to prompt your monologue."

"So…"

* * *

I'm at a dinner party after the funeral of my father. No one is crying. They are all respectfully ignoring the funeral part to enjoy the party. That is until I enter. The façade starts. Some cry, some say 'It was too soon', others throw a sad look my way as they dive right into the cheese platter.

No matter.

Now, you and your group of socialites approach me. You've always had a particular distaste for me due to my heritage. My brown skin has given you every reason to hate me. You are cordial with condolences, 'I'm sorry for your loss,' and quick to hear the juicy bits 'How did it happen?'

I sniffle, brought to tears by the thought of my father's death. I do this to make you look insensitive. With a whimper, I say my well rehearsed speech;

"Despite being a success financially, he left a letter stating how lonely he truly was. His life had become mundane and the spark of life left him. He never told anyone, always made sure he seemed confident, boisterous around company. In privacy is where his true thoughts came out. His biggest fears were due to old age. He was forgetting things, important things. I'm sure this got out despite our best efforts but he invested in an awful stock recently. He lost half a million."

* * *

"Seto, you absolute dunce! You worthless bastard! How could you invest in such a dead stock! My money is gone!"

Seto and Malikah both bowed their head in supposed sorrow.

" _He was shocked and ashamed. He was so defeated and depressed."_

"I have half a mind to disown the both of you! The newspaper is blaming me for your dumb mistake! Me!"

" _It was leaked that it was all his fault. And it was."_

* * *

"Hello? Yes, I'm an anonymous tipster. I work at Kaiba Corporation," Malikah blew her nails then stuck her hand out to Seto to finish drying them, "Apparently the CEO lost a hefty chunk of money on a bad deal. I think he might pin it on one of us employees but it was definitely him. I know this could get me in trouble but justice must be served." She hung up.

The two of them laughed their asses off, excited for the old man's reaction.

* * *

" _Then his memory worsened, it wasn't just forgetting stocks. With time, he became more violent due to memory loss. He…he attacked me once."_

"Here's my apology lunch." Malikah smiled, sitting the tin box on his desk, "I know Seto messed up big time but I thought a good home cooked meal could ease the forgiveness process."

He regarded her sternly, "Your husband put you up to this?"

"No. I simply felt bad. This is after all your company. You put so much hard work," That he stole from her husband, "Into this great company. I know a loss like this is hurting you."

He seemed satisfied with that, opening the box to find a well made sandwich and a thermos of soup. Eagerly he dug in, "You know, Malikah, I've always thought of you as the perfect wife for Seto."

"Really, always?" This made her highly uncomfortable considering she met Seto at age twelve. Apparently a twelve year old can have marital potential. Was this the Victorian era? Child brides were so last generation.

"You made him grow up faster. Not to mention you were a good incentive for any boy." He took a large bite out of the sandwich, "Despite being exotic looking, you were quite civilized."

She was sick of this. Only a few more seconds.

"You have so much potential. If only you used it in becoming a mother. You're getting old now."

Old? Her?

"You look tired. Are you okay?" She asked as polite as she could.

"No I…I am a bit drowsy."

"Yea." She tapped her fingers along the table, "You are. You're very sleepy even."

"I-I…" His head slammed against the desk as his body slumped over.

She smirked, "And now you're out like a baby. I guess opium was the way to go."

" _In a total fit of rage, he hit me over and over."_

She took out her compact mirror then dumped her makeup from her purse.

" _My face was bruised with splotches of red and purple. He tried to choke me but couldn't follow through."_

"Just a little, right on the cheekbone…some on the eye. Some on the lip? No I'll just smear my lipstick. Oo! Definitely some on the neck. Five little streaks for all his fingers."

" _I screamed for help as he passed out from exhaustion. That scream woke him up."_

The man jolted from his stupor, terrified of the bloodcurdling scream. Confused as to why he was on the floor, he looked over to see his daughter in law holding her eye.

"I'm sorry!" She sobbed, tears and snot falling from her face, "Please don't hit me again!"

He was baffle, "Malikah?" He reached out for her.

"AH!" she screeched.

" _The employees had to stop him from hurting me again."_

In ran three assistants in a panicked state. They looked from the old man to the distressed woman. She clearly needed more help.

"Miss are you, my god! Look at your face. What happened?"

She panted, "It-it was my fault! I just don't know what I did wrong." Her breath ran ragged.

"I must've blacked out." Kaiba Sr held his aching head, "I…I. Malikah tell them what happened to you."

"I won't tell. I promised!"

"Tell them! Who did you promise! Tell them right now!"

She held her chest, her body shook violently, "I don't understand! I don't get it!"

"Tell them!" He yelled ready to get answers on who to destroy.

"You told me not to tell!" She covered her mouth in shook, "I'm so sorry! Please don't hit me again! I promised I'll do better! Please! Please!" She choked on her own words, wheezing, "Don't you remember?"

" _He couldn't remember how badly he hurt me."_

"Calm down! Catch your breath, it's okay now. You're safe now." The other two just glared at the supposed assailant.

Two of them hoisted her on their shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She repeated, shaking her head.

"You did nothing wrong."

Being guided from the room she glanced back, seeing a tint of insanity in his eyes. 'Was he going insane?' He probably asked himself.

" _I saw the guilt in his eyes so when they asked about the hospital, I declined in order to spare his reputation."_

"I can't have my husband know. I had a car waiting for me anyway, could you take me there?"

Hoisted up, she would be carried outside to the black car waiting outside the building.

"Please take care, Miss."

"Will do, boys." She'd say with a small, pained grin, "Please, keep this on the hush." She requested, knowing it would spread like wildfire.

" _I was so ashamed, I wept in front of the driver."_

As the car pulled off, the driver laughed, "What a number you did on yourself!"

"Oh Ryou~" Malikah cooed, "I wish you'd do a number on me!"

"My minx, it pains me to hear you say that while you are busy canoodling my cousin late at night."

She whined, "You'll always be my number one!" Leaning up to kiss his cheek, "Mon cheri, she may have my heart but my loins can only be swayed by you. Say something to make me hot!"

"I rearranged my sock draw this morning. Color coded."

She moaned, "So pleasing to see!"

They laughed.

"Wait till Seto sees you, love. He will flip! I hope this plot of yours works."

" _Then I told him."_

" _ **There's nothing to worry about."**_

* * *

"Maybe I should have spoke up," I'll say to you, "Then he wouldn't have had to face it alone. Who knows what went through his mind when he ended his life." I would sigh becoming teary eyed again, "I wonder his last words."

* * *

"You conniving bitch!" The old dirty bastard yelled from his place on the step ladder before the gaudy art piece on his wall. It was a large, golden lion statue, it's mighty jaws snapping as it pounced.

"You know I always wondered why have that grand statue in your living room? Now I think it's the perfect hanging tree." She smoked his cigar, tapping the ashes before him, "I can't believe you smoke these. Gross."

"I gave you everything you could've wanted! I raised you!"

The woman nodded her head, smoothing out her raincoat. This cigar was so nasty, "Hey, old man quit yapping. I'm getting a headache." She grabbed the binder of finances, scattering the files about, "Tell me something and I'll tell you why this is happening."

He glared at the woman, "Will my answer change the outcome?"

Malikah shrugged with a small smile, "Nope."

With a heavy sigh of resignation, he grunted in approval.

"Why were you so hard on your son?"

Kaiba closes his eyes, thinking over the question apparently. "My father did the same to me. And his father."

"Wow, a lineage of scum." She snickered, "There must have been another reason." Tradition was an excuse most people used to hide something more. Malikah personally did not believe much in traditional values.

"There was another reason…"

She could wait.

…

In a minute or two, he responded "His eye wandered."

"We have our flings." They were both guilty of that.

"To the same team." He shook with anger, "A damn fairy. I raised a disgrace."

She smiled, finding joy in his rage, "Ohoho! Ah, the truth! So why make him marry me. I'm the exact opposite of manly."

Kaiba shook his head, finding something amusing, "You may think so but you display every quality in a good man. Cunning, wise, bold, ruthless, not afraid to get their hands dirty." He gestured to her, "That's why you're here and he is not. You were more of a son than he ever was. I actually was proud of you."

Malikah did handle most of the more physical, grueling aspects of their business (like this), she never knew this old fart was aware she handled that front instead of his son.

"So you knew I handled the unsavory bits of our company?" she asked.

"Seto only cares about numbers and appearances. I figured he couldn't handle the menial, covert work by himself. I realized it was you by a hunch. If Seto saw a bug, you would stab it with a knife. If my son wanted to make bread, you'd knead it and he'd throw it in the oven. You two complement each other, starting and finishing the business of another. So when I figured it wasn't him, I knew it had to be you."

Made sense, they had been this way since they were twelve, "Surprised to know you had faith in me as a leader." She figured he would let them work as they did.

"I did but I'm also keenly aware you are not a man. That's why I pushed you to be more womanly, I hoped you would give up on crime and stay in the house. I think you'd be an awful mother but it would occupy your time."

Malikah hated everything about that so she kept her mouth closed.

"So you have been the one making me go crazy?"

The woman hummed at curt yes.

"I figured it was one of you. It was wishful thinking that Seto would get up from his desk to kill his own father. I would've been proud in death."

Hoping to console, she offered, "Without you, he will have to leave the office. No more excuses."

"You're right, this is good for him. Is that why you're killing me. To help him succeed?"

She laughed, "I wish I were so selfless! Without more requirements to fulfill, he will not need me. Thus making me a free woman when I get a replacement for myself." She grinned, "I'm going traveling."

"Ah, where to first? Off to France to finally become French, Mademoiselle Ishtar?"

Of course he knew her secret persona, he knew everything about her, "Heheh, a fan! Lovely to see one. I knew you had good taste."

Kaiba Sr. was visibly offended by that, "I have standards."

Malikah was visibly offended by that, "I'm a stand up gal…off stage."

"Take a gander at the situation you are in."

…right.

She sheepishly grinned, "Point taken."

The conversation fizzled out with nothing left to say. This made an awkward silence. Malikah was never really good with these case scenarios. Being at a loss for words was rare. Maybe she could announce that she would start now to ease the tension-

"I won't keep you then." The man said, interrupting her thoughts, "Go on."

He beat her to the punch. "Eager, huh?"

"Yes, actually." He repositioned himself on the step ladder, "Excited to haunt your dreams just like the rest of those ghosts you carry around."

Malikah hated that type of talk. Spirits and ghosts freaked her out. The dead should stay dead.

"I wonder where Satan will put you in hell? It must be with him on the throne." He must gave wanted to die with the nonsense he spewed at her, "I wonder how you sleep with what you have done."

She clenched her fists, "Like a baby."

"A baby who always leaves the light on." He saw the embarrassment wash over her, "Your past haunts you. You're just a hollowed husk of human."

Shut up. Shut up!

"You're a monster just like me!"

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

"You are not going to heaven and neither did that cretin father of yours! Just a filthy gypsy and his whore daughter!" She ran to kick his life support off.

" _I bet his last words would be kind."_

He was too fast, "I hope you rot in hell, Malikah Issar." He kicked the ladder himself, not giving her the satisfaction.

She merely stared at him sway, panting in a blind rage. She wanted to desecrate his body, pull his legs and watch him stretch like taffy. That would ruin the scene, she reminded herself.

" _And my words to him would be even kinder."_

"I'll see you there, bastard." She grumbled, storming from the room. .

She was no more a monster than anyone else. Of course, she had her hiccups of killing over her quota or destroying one too many lives but no more than the average person. Life went on.

With that thought, she smiled gently shutting the door to the Kaiba estate.

* * *

I will look at you again. Your face sober and sympathetic. And I'll throw back a drink like I have something to forget. And I get up and stand next to my dashing husband, a picture of perfect melancholy painted in liquid joy. So when I see you whisper to your friend and their friend, and their friend…I'll know I won the victory. So I'll lean over, kiss my darling, and pretend my world has just ended.

Even though it's just began.

* * *

"Well," Bakura scratched her neck, "You don't need any help with that role. I think it was made for you, apparently!"

Malikah smiled, reading the paper of the tragic death of a millionaire, "Yea, me too." She stood up, leaning over to kiss her darling, "I'm excited."

"For the role?"

"For life beyond it."


	6. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green. The symbolism of the color seems to have an identity crisis. Green reminds us of mother nature, the great outdoors, a peaceful world. Green is also the same thing that destroys those very things. Money.  
> Green is versatile. Purely up to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where have I been? Hahaha, silly onion, I've been creating a backlog of chapters! Ohohoho, finally we get consistency!

"Welcome to my mansion, fellas!"

Bakura could not believe that Malikah bought a fucking mansion. She had packed her bags and moved to East Egg. A suburb located in Long Island, the place was riddled with high rollers of a less savory degree. Across the bay, one could see real high living. That's where the old money was. True elites lived in West Egg. This neighborhood, however, smelled of a poor man's idea of posh. So did Malikah's own home.

Growing up with a well financed family, Bakura knew luxury. Luxury was not glitz and glamour, it was comfort and sustainability. One could buy satin polyester sheets with the look of silk but they would not last long compared to a true silk sheet. Much like the people around here, they wanted to look and feel rich but they would never stay rich.

The blonde led the group of her 'friends' around the expansive estate, "The floors are marble, the rails are gold, and did I mention the pool!"

Bakura tried to listen to her braggart tour but the thought of so much excess distracted her. Where did this money come from?

Despite being a rising star, Malikah mostly used her funds to repay her family and the expenses of performing. This sudden wealth scared Bakura. There was only one way to get this money and nothing legal came to mind.

"I am throwing a party in three days but a fellow at the end of the street is throwing one tonight. He does one every week, I haven't met him but he sent a servant over with a welcoming basket. Kind, right?"

The people with her dumbly nodded in blind agreement. It made Bakura angry that they were here. Who even were these nobodies? They screamed faux money. Bakura knew the elite, no one truly wealthy wore silk shirts outside the house.

This was going to be a hell of a day.

It was in fact. One that dragged on entirely too long. The tour was followed by wine and cheese. Bakura noted just how many glasses Malikah had to check her mood. After the fifth, she was chipper. The eighth however made her belligerent. Malikah had four meaning she was just like her sober self: unpredictable.

As the last set of admirers left the living room, Bakura made her move, "Hey, I haven't seen you in months." She said, standing beside her fainting couch.

Malikah stopped shoving the last bits of fancy cheese into her mouth, "Don't exaggerate!" She scolded, cheese crumbs falling from her mouth onto the poor couch.

Bakura genuinely gagged on the sight. God, she was a improper hussy. "We mostly talked on the phone, sent each other letters too. I really haven't seen much of you unless it's a show." She tried to set up dates but the blonde had an excuse for everything.

"I quit my job!" She grinned, glowing with joy.

That was news, "I…didn't know you had a job. Well, another job."

"Yea, I sold goods. I mostly transported. Now I don't. I'm done with that."

Manual labor did not sound like a likely job for the songstress, the notion was suspicious in of itself, "Oh, that explains the busyness."

She wouldn't push Malikah away with accusations. They had just reunited. It was better to save her interrogation until they were reacquainted.

"Any upcoming shows?"

"Yea, actually!" She sat up from her fainting couch, "I'll be performing in the opera house."

That was a big gig! "Wow, girly! Look at you go." What an accomplishment.

"I know! My luck has been just perfect lately!"

Bakura shook her head, "You worked hard, you deserve this."

Malikah bounced, jovially, "Thanks!" She patted the spot next to her.

The albino took a seat next to her, relaxing on the plush couch, "So…nice house?"

"Right! I completely designed it myself!" She boasted, "From the structure to the décor, I did it all. And look at the silk curtains!"

She couldn't care less about her damn curtains, "Isn't that costly?" Bakura prodded.

"Fame will handle that! I've worked hard for this, right, so I'm going to spend this cash to make room for more!"

That wasn't the response she wanted. That response warranted a different concern: Malikah had no self control. She couldn't handle her liquor or finances. Bakura slowly understood what Isis was trying to prevent by keeping her on a leash.

"Whatever money you've run into, save it." The brit suggested.

Her face went from elated to disgusted, "What?"

"Don't be frivolous. Keep your money in a bank. You spend so much as it is, you're going to go broke one day. Don't expect it to last forever. Maybe budget yourself, invest in stocks, have your sister give you an allowance." Bakura sighed, trying to find the right words, "I'm worried for you, just stay smart and plan before you throw away your life's work on showboating."

Malikah stared at her for moments with a perplexed expression. The words effected her greatly-

"HAHAHA!" The blonde cackled in her face, "A bank! A fucking allowance!"

Bakura pouted. Why did she bother with Malikah. She wasn't worth her bargaining price. As much as she was gorgeous, she was annoying as hell almighty!

She was now wheezing on the floor, "Y-you said it so seriously too! Ha!" She keeled over.

Now efficiently spited, "I am leaving." Bakura stood up, stepping over the woman.

Malikah grabbed her leg, "No, haha! Stay!" She wrapped her arms around her leg.

"Shoo! You pest!" After a few attempts of trying to shake her off, it proved futile. She actually wore herself out, "Fine! Just scooch over." She sat on the floor only to be climbed on.

Malikah sat in her lap, "So, you miss me?" She asked, bashfully.

Bakura couldn't help her blushing, "If I did, I regret it." It was true.

"Please," she shrugged her shirt strap off, "Don't be mad. I'll do anything for you to forgive me."

Stay mad. Stay mad. Stay mad. Do not give in to breasts. She was stronger than her lust.

"Anything?" She asked, against her better judgment.

Noooo! Stronger than her lust! Don't play the temptress' games.

"An-ny-thing."

…

"Yup, I forgive you."

Dammit!

"Then let me make it worth your while~"

* * *

Bakura stared at the ceiling, holding the covers to her chest, as Malikah snored beside her. She wondered where her dignity went every time she saw cleavage. She had errands to run, things to clean, a whole day of plans ruined thanks to big boobs. She couldn't even leave the bed with Malikah trapping her.

"I'm in hell."

An arm swung over her face and a boob promptly followed, suffocating her.

…

"I take that back."

* * *

Bakura caught an early train home. The few passengers there were obviously going to work. And there she was doing the walk of shame across from some big shot, rich guy. She decided to park her ass in the seat across from him. No rhyme or reason, just impulse and some spite. If she had to look at his genuine leather shoes, he had to look at her genuine tired eyes.

He held a paper in his hand and she noticed his designer cufflinks. Vincenzo links, very expensive and underground. Not many outside of the elite knew of them. No one in East Egg is wearing those.

"Done peeping?" The man asked, eyes not looking up from his paper. The news concealed most of him. The headline was of a business tycoon dying. It reminded her of something but it refused to ring a bell.

"Not quite. I'm still analyzing." She replied, sitting back in her seat.

"Hm. Why not be productive?"

Bakura rolled her eyes, "I am. Scoping out millionaires is a full time job."

The man sat down his paper, giving her a better look. He had his dark brown hair slicked back into waves. Lines and bags adorned his face but she knew he was young. A stressed individual who was due for a snoozer.

"What makes you think I have money?" He asked, retrieving a box from his messenger bag. Out came two cigars.

Bakura decided to humor him, taking his offering, "The subtleties in your attire. Small flashes of wealth. Coming from West Egg, huh?"

He looked her over once then sighed, "Yes. I have a relative in East Egg I visited then stayed in my West Egg home."

"Why not stay with that relative?"

He smirked, "She's a noisy woman."

Bakura grinned, "I visited my own loud broad too." She fetched her matches from her purse, "A good woman keeps quiet and I've never been a fan of good girls." She tossed the pack onto his lap.

He shrugged, "My luck only lands me with the most difficult women to deal with." He returned her pack to her after using it.

"Your luck must be changing because I'm quite the easy sailor."

"Are you? Doesn't matter much, I'm not interested."

She laughed at that, "I've got women beating down my door," An obvious lie, "You're last on my list of prospects. I just think we can benefit each other."

He seemed amused and that intrigue was all she needed, "You seem to be well off. You know my cufflink designer, after all. What can I do that you cannot on your own?"

Bakura leaned forward, "Simple." She looked him in his pale blue eyes, "Make. Me. Immortal."

There it was.

He was caught in her trap.

"Who are you?"

"Bakura."

He outstretched his hand. She shook it promptly.

"Seto."

* * *

With a new, lavish house, she should have been satisfied but that was never the case. Malikah could admit she was greedy, extremely so. What great conqueror wasn't? Yes, she would be the Caesar of her time.

Malikah danced to the beat, swirling her hips. Mostly tap dancing nowadays, she had to make sure her other muscles stayed toned. Burlesque was her passion but mainstream called for censorship. Nonetheless, she wanted her body to remain beautifully toned.

"Angel,"

The familiar voice drew her to the door.

Ryou! "Love Muffin!" She halted her routine to swoon over him.

The man was becoming quite the dreamboat. Although she missed his more baby faced appearance when they met two years ago. He was only nineteen then and quite the cutie.

"My darling chocolate drop, I come bearing gifts." He said, holding out a letter for her.

"You **should** have!" She opened the letter with a eager smile, "If it's a love letter just recite it."

"I wish I were so poetic."

As she skimmed through the message, her smile dropped. Ryou had saw this coming from the pretense Kaiba gave him.

"An investigation, huh?" She wanted a smoke and a beer, "They're watching him like a hawk for the slightest mistake."

"Months and that chief still thinks it was foulplay. I think they must be bored to keep investigating this with no evidence."

Malikah smirked with a bright idea, "We'll just have to quench that thirst for excitement."

Ryou grinned, "Stellar. Should I use your old trick?"

"Yes. Just make sure your cousin isn't involved this time." She said, folding the letter, "What a small world we live in?" She mused.

He looked her up and down. Malikah looked more and more radiant these days, if that was even possible. She was quite the vixen before but there was an air of zeal around her now. Money looked good on her. She seemed happy, a large chunk of change, mansion to live in, a woman on her arm.

To be honest, he was slightly jealous. Malikah had cut back on her affections towards him for Bakura's sanity. His cousin was always wondering why they were so close. Their fondness was for a simple reason: Trauma really brings people together. There was a time where he thought Malikah was his soulmate but he blamed it on his gratefulness to her.

"Angel?"

"Hm?" she looked up from the paper rose she created from the message.

"I love you."

She joyfully screeched, "You know, how I adore you, love muffin!" She pinched his cheek, "You'll always be my handsome lil potato."

With an amused huff, he took her hand and kissed it, "I know. Hm."

"What is on your mind, mon cher? Well, besides me."

"Nothing but you. I'm thinking how exquisite you'd be in a wedding dress."

Malikah gleefully flapped her arms about, "Lace? Pearls?" She suggested.

He knew better, he planned her dress ages ago, "Of course not. Satin and feathers."

"You know me better than I know my self! Some force in this universe brought us together for a reason!"

"God?"

"Sewer dwellers!"

"Fuck, I love you." He winced. She made it so hard to move on especially when they spoke the same odd lingo, "Do you remember how we met?"

She pouted, "You cousins seem to like to test my memory. Of course I remember." She hugged his arm, "We were in that hostage situation at the Higgins Club. That stupid little gang from the north wipe us out. Tied all of us up and shot my friends up one by one. Those were some of my best men. Dead. You were just a poor waiter who didn't run fast enough."

"Thank goodness I didn't." He smiled.

"Right cuz you saved me by tackling one of em." She said, "Hey, why'd you do that?"

"You only remember the juicy bits of a story. I'll never tell. Just remember it."

Malikah groaned, "I don't remember you before that!" the woman whined.

"Too bad."

He laughed at her frustration. He knew she wouldn't remember him. He was just a sad teenager, trying to make a living as a waiter. It was a shame, he was hooked on her before she even knew his name.

He would start his shift and she'd already be there drunk at the same table each time. She'd asked him for another drink and if he believed in ghosts because she's being haunted.

He'd grab a water and assure her a spirit would get bored with haunting after awhile. They'd talk about various things from philosophy to the astrology readings in the paper. She usually talked until a large man came to retrieve her. Now, he knows it was Rishid. And as he carried the woman away, she'd slap his arm 'Tip him! A man who can actually listen deserves a reward!' She did this every time, not remembering the last. He thought it a bit silly but he appreciated the sentiment…and cash. That's how she invaded his thoughts.

"Since I'm already seeing the boss, anything for me to report?" Malikah asked.

So kind, "No, no. You're out of the business, enjoy your freedom."

"Hush! I ran it for so long, it feels natural. Anything troubling business?"

There was. A sudden newcomer onto the scene. They weren't big but they were efficient in taking clients in a…loud manner. Nothing he couldn't handle though.

"No. Same old."

She kissed his cheek, "I love when you lie to me!" She always knew, "I'm confident in your abilities so I won't press it. Just know I'm here to help you and Seto will squash anything immediately."

He nodded, loving the feel of her lipstick on his cheek, "I know. I'll leave you to your dancing for now, I have some work to finish."

"Alrighty, love. Go ahead. Leave me!" She dramatically cried out.

"I always return, my dearest little chocolate drop." He booped her nose, earning a little giggle.

"Bye~"

"Bye, love." He said, walking to the door. He momentarily paused, watching her resume her dancing. Hm, his angel.

Malikah continued on for another hour or so before she realized her appointment was coming soon. She had to get ready before her car came. It was the only way Seto could ensure her arrival was on time.

She ran upstairs to her old room. Her room was void of color without her flowers. Despite formerly hating them, she acknowledged they were beautiful nonetheless.

She picked a nice blouse and palazzo pants for comfort. By the time she heard the car beep, she was mostly ready except her hair. She had not fixed the ends. They looked bad. Maybe she should cut her hair. It would be easier to manage, more convenient. Only reason she had it previously was to look more traditional to that old bastard.

Maybe it was time for a change.

* * *

"Finally! Mr. Kaiba is going to be piping mad if we are not at his office on time."

Malikah shrugged, "I'll deal with him." She said shutting the car door behind her.

"Miss, did you cut your hair?"

The hat was not covering enough so of course he'd notice, "Yes."

"…did you cut it yourself?"

Embarrassed she yelled, "Shut up and drive!"

* * *

"Nice hack job."

She hated him.

"It was an impulse cut. I did it right before coming." She explained to ex-husband and current pain in her ass.

"Oh, I can tell you did it yourself."

Ignoring him for her own sake was the only option after that remark.

Malikah finished checking the money, "Geez, I hate getting these small amounts. I'm sick of this monthly shit."

Seto was too. It meant he had to see her more, "These damn cops are on my ass. If I transferred such a large amount of funds, they'd be suspicious. I gave you half of my savings but any inheritance money would be incriminating."

"I understand that, sweet cheeks." She said, pinching his cheek, "I'm just aching for that dough." She grinned as he slapped her hand, "Spoke to Ryou today. They're going to stir up trouble to give you a break. The coppers must be bored to watch a businessman man do his job. I told him to excite them a bit." She said, walking over to his cabinet.

"How?"

"The serial killer bit." She fixed herself a drink of whiskey, "There are plenty of murders to copy and mass produce."

"That worked wonders last time. The last schmuck who we tried to pin those murders on was that 'darling friend' of yours."

Not caring for his tone she kicked her shoe off, hitting his shoulder.

"You desert rat!" He cried out, rubbing his arm.

She laughed at his dramatics, "Oh really, you damn hick!"

They glared at each other, hating to be reminded of their upbringings. Alike in many ways, they merely pissed each other off rather than complement the other.

Malikah relented, figuring to move the discussion along, "Why the suspicion though? Did I leave any evidence?"

"None," He further explains, "From my intel on the force, there was nothing kept from the crime scene. It's my father's reputation that is the problem. He was too proud and traditional to kill himself."

"Bull. Given the right circumstances anyone would choose to end their suffering." She scoffed, throwing her hands in the air. This was all too much!

"What about you?" He asked, picking up some files to sort.

Malikah once again glared at him, "What about me!"

"What would it take for you to end it all? What's the last straw?"

He was genuinely asking her. He had known her the longest in both their lives. He knew her strengths and her few weaknesses. She had no true restraints though. He had Mokuba. He had to care for his brother as a parent would. Her sibling was older and somewhat distant. She was solely responsible for herself and no one else. Most people would die for their loved one but…she had none close enough.

They both knew this.

One could argue Bakura was filling that void but there was no blood there. It was no familial bond. Romantic as it was trying to become, it was no genetic need to protect like family.

"What's going to kill you?"

She seemed to think about it long and hard. Seto had trouble thinking too.

After a moment, she answered, "The only thing that comes to mind is boredom."

"Boredom?"

Malikah shrugged her shoulders, "More so…there's nothing else I **can** do. Maybe I've been it all. Maybe I've done all I can. If I could no longer feel excitement, I think I'd died."

"You would end it all if you couldn't do anything more in life?"

"A trapped pawn has no use." She took a sip of her drink, "So why not?"

He supposed that made sense for her.

"It probably won't happen though." She dismissed the thought, cheerily finishing her drink.

Seto looked her over. Knowing her for years, there was a lot he did not understand. She was complex, a being of contradictions. He was never sure what she believed in truly. The only way to know what would push her to the brink of insanity was to wait. But one thing he knew was that…she'd cause her own downfall.

"No…it probably won't happen."

* * *

Saturday night came quickly. Bakura barely recognized the house she saw days ago. It seemed bursting at the seams with bodies. Who were these people! Music poured through the doors and as she swam through the sea of people she found herself lost. She shoved her way past the crowd towards the backyard, or at least where she remember it being.

Outside she found the pool occupied with friendlier faces.

"Ryou! Thank goodness." She sighed in relief.

He was chatting up a man and woman either side of him uncomfortably close, his face far too flush for the cool water of the pool.

"Oh." He glanced up, "Bakura. Great." His enthusiasm seemed backhanded.

She caught his drift, "Just tell me where Malikah is."

"Garden." He quickly went back to his endeavors.

She turned to follow the pathway to the rose garden. She could hear the laughter coming from the garden. Approaching the benches she called out for her. The hedges blocked the sitting area.

"Bakura~ hehehe! Here!" clear intoxication was in her laughter.

Bakura heard a shush.

What? She hurriedly ran into the opening, seeing a man over Malikah. Bakura ran and tackled him. She punched him over and over, then dragged him up. She kicked his ass, "Get out of here!" She screamed.

The perpetrator ran off.

"Boo, Bakura! That was the Cheese Baron! He inherited the rights to cheese! He's filthy rich!"

"Are you fucking kidding me!" She sighed, holding her face in her hands, "You're such a piece of work!"

Malikah ignored her, "Have you had the wine I bought? It is so delicious."

"What glass is that?"

"Seventh."

Well at least that meant she was in a good mood. Bakura sat beside her, putting a hand on her lap, "Sober up a little."

"Why? The point of a party is to forget your inhibitions and be free!" She laughed, "Here finish my glass to take the edge off."

Bakura rolled her eyes at the dramatic claim, "Thanks. That party in there is really crazy. I think I saw a tiger."

Malikah smiled, "Right, I met a lion tamer at the circus and he came with a big cat. I wanted a lion but hey, I'm sure they are busy creatures."

"They literally do nothing until showtime."

"Shut up."

The albino shook her head, throwing back the alcohol. It was pretty good given the current…issue.

"Where'd you get this?"

"Don't worry about it, I know a guy!"

"I'm not visiting you in prison."

Malikah groaned, "You need to cut loose. Come with me!" She led her to the back of the house with the pool. "Hug me!"

"What?"

"Hug me!"

Bakura awkwardly did so and the blonde tightly held her waist. It made her red how close they were. She looked up to see the woman smiling gently at her. It was mesmerized.

"Hold your breath."

Mm. Wha…

She didn't even realize she was off the ground, "Malikah! What are you doing, bitch!" She screamed as they flew into the pool.

Never again would she trust Malikah Issar. Never ever.

The water was cold and uninviting. She looked up, trying to see how much she had to swim. Above was green sparkling fabric, it was beautiful. Following it she saw her little traitor in beautiful, glowing green.

The sight she found froze her in place. Violet eyes stared back, eerily glowing in the blue. Her golden hair suspended in time like a statue of the Greeks. Bakura felt so conflicted, the image so enthralling yet frightening. There was something twisted about dear Malikah.

Bakura felt her lungs burn. She swam upwards noticing that Malikah decided to catch her breath too. They broke the surface, gasping for air. Bakura looked around to see the surprised faces of guests and the annoyed one of Ryou. They ruined his canoodling.

"Hi?" She said to break the tension.

"I'm sober now!" Malikah cackled, doggy paddling.

Bakura rolled her eyes, "The ever optimist." She grinned, "Race you to the end of the pool."

"You're so on!"

They swam to the shallow end. Bakura won the race, not admitting she was a competitive swimmer in school.

"What do you want for winning?"

"Whatever you got to give."

She smirked, "I have something _real_ special for you. I'll give it to you later."

Bakura hoped that was an innuendo.

* * *

Still dripping wet and sorely disappointed, "I thought you wanted sex." It was not an innuendo.

Malikah gasped, "Sex?" her brow furrowed, "What's sex?"

Bakura couldn't help laughing, "It's funny because every man in Manhattan has taken you home drunk!"

"Fuck off." She crossed her arms.

"What's this prize of yours?"

"My lion!"

Bakura almost ran, truly believing Malikah would trap her in a room with a lion to get a cheap laugh. From her chest beside the bed, she pulled out a shiny miniature statue. It was a lion pouncing, its mighty jaws snapping.

"There's only two like it in the world, I had them custom made! Solid gold."

"Wowzaa."

The blonde glared at her to shut up.

"This is very special but I'd like for you to have it. I want to move on from that mess to live a hundred percent free."

"So I get your thousands of dollars of hand me downs. Sounds good to me." Bakura shrugged.

With an obnoxious yawn, "I want to go to bed." She declared.

"There's a party downstairs."

"So? They can leave when they want. My important rooms are locked."

How absolutely irresponsible.

"Come lay down with me. I'll run us a bath."

Well, as they say, 'Fuck the kids'. Enjoy the party, losers. She had a bath date.

* * *

Monday

Malikah grabbed the golden tendrils of the chandelier, "Capone, give me strength." She prayed to the Mob Gods and swung. She soared across the party, landing on the dessert table into the cake.

Tuesday

The circus performers taught her how to breathe fire. She held the torch up and blew, catching the stilt man's legs. The crowd screamed with panic. She quickly pushed the man into her pool. As the fire disappeared the partygoers cheered, resuming their drunken merriment.

Wednesday

Malikah threw a wine tasting party. After multiple glasses of wine, a man waltzed in claiming to be the Baron of Cheddar. He had returned! Drunk off her rocker, she played a game of croquet with the intent to swindle all his cheesy stocks. By the second set, they realized they weren't so different after all. Then promptly made love in the garden to symbolize the union of wine and fancy cheeses.

Thursday

Ryou told Malikah the Cheese Baron did not exist and never showed up wooing her. Some bloke simply took advantage of her.

Malikah stops throwing parties.

Til Sunday.

Every day for many days, those days become a year of soirees. Almost daily she threw a party, or gathering. Sometimes big, sometimes small. But there was always someone there. How could she not invite people? A large house for just one could never be a home. And the beautiful things inside were always gone by the next party; stolen then replaced.

All the money made from fame and crime went into that house. The past hard work fueled the present sex, drugs, and despair. And Malikah liked it that way. She liked freedom.

Bakura liked that she was happy yet the overwhelming shadow of death lingering around Malikah put a strain on their She cared for her deeply. They were friends foremost, but her deep-seated passions kept her lips sealed. She couldn't warn Malikah about her behavior, it only drove her farther away. A friend could scold but a lover was to be supportive. Oh, it hurt greatly watching the star drive herself to the grave. Bakura just never wanted to be a reason for her to jump in the casket.

She never stopped trying to save her though.

* * *

"Likah, cut back on the alcohol. You're having trouble remembering the nights." Bakura said, flipping the paper to the entertainment column.

The woman smirked at her from the mirror of her vanity, "Isn't that the beauty of it? Memories are such a bother!" She finished applying her rouge.

They were already late for the gala due to snogging but now they were super late due to the drama queen needing to fix her makeup.

"I'm serious about cutting back. You're going to end up in trouble." Bakura leaned over to kiss her neck, "Just three glasses instead of six tonight. I worry."

Malikah leaned into the caress.

Abruptly, she slapped the paper on the desk, "Look. Our shows are both featured! Finally after, what, almost two years? We finally are at the top of our game!"

Malikah looked her over, still thinking about the former topic "Okay then. Just for your worries," She returned the kiss, "I'm going cold turkey. No more!"

Bakura could not help her jaw dropping. Her girl loved booze more than Anthony loved Cleopatra, "Really! You sure?" She didn't fully believe she could.

She stood up, smooching her, "It's no sweat off my brow! I can do anything if I try hard enough, look where we are!"

She was right…

Bakura smirked, "I trust you." She did to an extent, "Now let's go."

Malikah followed her lead, "Anything for you, baby!"

* * *

"I'm so sorry, baby." Malikah crawled up her steps after the afterparty, ashamed at her lack of control. The room would not stop spinning. She limped into her bedroom. She opened the balcony to get some fresh air. Her head spun like a carousel. Leaning against the railing she looked down to see the dark water reflected in the moonlight. Her pool wasn't that deep. If she dived in, would she break her neck? With only one way to find out and fearing the answer, she declined the thought.

She felt amazing nowadays. She partied all night then slept til noon. What a wonderful thing. No one told her what to do or where to go. Just her. By herself. Alone.

She couldn't call Bakura. It was too late, she would know she was partying again. Malikah hated when her lover was upset. She did need to talk to someone, anyone. If she wasn't busy hosting or stumbling about, her regrets would catch her unguarded. The alcohol saved her from her mistakes. Liquor set her free, these parties set her free! Moonshine was cheaper than therapy.

She sighed, deciding it best to sleep off the liquor. She flopped onto the large bed then waited for sleep.

…

…

It just wouldn't come. Maybe she should just go pee and see if that's keeping her up. The answer came up no. Empty bladder, still awake. She washed her hands and saw her reflection. She didn't like it as much as she used to. She used to be well rested though. She slapped the mirror angrily for reminding her. Out fell a bottle of pills from the cabinet.

She stared at the bottle. She couldn't remember what these were for. Some injury along the way got her prescribed these. They made her pass out but they worked well for pain.

Maybe one to get her sleepy. Why not? She popped it and drunk from the sink.

She felt nothing.

Another one wouldn't hurt. Deciding to give it time, she washed her makeup off and pulled a silk bonnet on.

Now it kicked in. She sat on the edge of her bathtub. The was a pulling at her brain, tug to darkness. The colors of the room melded together until they made black. Within the next minute of trying to control her racing mind, she fell onto the floor, blacking out.

That soon became a sleeping ritual.

* * *

"Good job with sales. Your fame has steadily increased since you started working here. In a few months with the new collection, I think we can try sending your recordings overseas to see the reception." Kaiba stated, sliding her check across his coffee table.

Bakura smirked, "Told ya, I would dazzle you." She sat the check on the table behind her, trusting the amount. After two years, Kaiba never swindled her of a cent. She appreciated that honesty. They had grown comfortable with each other's presence. Friendship was far too bold a term for either.

"I didn't much believe you while you were stumbling about on the train."

"Understandable." She looked around the room, feeling less than eager to go home. The neighbors were renovating and the ruckus drove her nuts.

"Who's the kid?"

"Brother."

That surprised her. "Never knew you had a brother."

"We don't discuss personal business."

"I suppose we don't." Bakura simply continued to snoop, "How old is he?" She asked, casually going through his stuff.

"Twenty this year."

"Geez, revamp your photograph."

"I prefer him when he wasn't trying to become my psychologist. Every conversation is turned into a therapy session."

Bakura chuckled, "At least you get it free." She saw something familiar in the corner of her eye, "Is that a lion statue?"

"Yes, gifted to me to celebrate an…end to a chapter in my life."

She saw it before, awhile ago, "Looks nice. Who gave it to you?"

He sighed, annoyed with all the questions, "My wife gave it to me." She knew he had a wife but he seldom brought her up. She figured she must have been an angel to marry this walking comptometer. "What's your wife like?"

"No idea. She's off the reigns these days. I used to be able to handle her but she's a wreck now."

"You don't live together? Some marriage."

Kaiba clicked away on his comptometer, "I don't have the time nor the reason to pursue romance. My wife and I both know this."

She continued to rummage through his things, making quite the ruck with his trinkets. She played with his random thingamajigs lying about.

"Don't you have somewhere to be besides pestering me!"

She straightened herself, "Yes, sir. Right out. Let me just grab my check." She returned to the cabinet, putting her check in her wallet. On her way out that gold caught her eye again.

Bakura stared at the golden lion figure. She saw it somewhere. It was awhile ago so it was foggy. She just couldn't remember where. The more she looked at it, the more upset she grew. She felt a pain like never before. Where?

His wife gave it to him? A lion statue?

" _There's only two like it in the world!"_

…

"Kaiba."

He looked up from his paperwork, clearly ready to throw her out, "What."

…

"Did Malikah give you this?"

He stared at her with a disgruntled expression, "Yes. She did."

They stared at each other for what felt like hours. Bakura didn't know what exactly she was feeling. She had slept with her boss's wife. She had-

"Before you get any delusions in that head of yours," He returned to his files, "We are separated in every way but legally. Hopefully, that's some consolation."

"Am I a homewrecker? Do you have a family?"

Kaiba chuckled, "If you call our empty mansion a home, then yes."

Bakura knew it was a joke but it was poorly timed. She thought back on her past with Malikah and realized why Isis was so upset with her. She was a married woman sleeping around.

"Is that why Malikah doesn't use her real name?" It was mostly her thinking aloud but it quickly got a response.

"Our marriage?" He shrugged, "I suppose so. Malikah Issar is widely known as my wife to socialites. Easily recognizable."

She leaned against the wall, overwhelmed with her emotions, "I feel duped. Is that reasonable? Knowing someone for two years and knowing nothing about them. That's good reason to feel bamboozled, right?"

Kaiba grabbed a pen, circling a few things on his sheets, "I suppose. I am not one for displays of emotion but I think this warrants a degree of anger. Breaking trust hurts much deeper."

"Yes. It does."

"Malikah is hard to trust. She's…odd. Some days she's easy to manage, others she is hysterical. A screw fell loose in her noggin." He said, "Though if you do confront her on her lies, I'd pay attention to what mood she is in. You probably know this already but her bad days are…volatile."

She knew but her need to address this far overshadowed her tantrum, "Right." She processed the information she just received, "Is there anything else I should know. Any more lies I should be aware of?"

Kaiba smirked, "Plenty. Ask away."

She was thrown aback by his willingness, "Why so eager to rat out your wife?"

"She's been drinking up my booze supply despite my warnings. Maybe this will teach her to keep a promise for once."

They continued on. The more Bakura knew, the more she hated the woman she loved. Lies stacked onto lies, miles long. So by the time Kaiba was done revealing truths, she had her resolve.

* * *

Bakura banged on the door to the estate, "Malikah!" Bang, bang, bang, "Malikah!"

The door cracked open and a maid answered, "The mistress was not expecting company."

"I'll be sure the give my condolences." She pushed through the door, jolting the woman backwards, "Malikah! Answer me, hoofer!"

With a loud grunt, the blonde announced her presence from the staircase, "I have a headache, you incorrigible whore. What on earth do you want!"

"I want answers!"

Covering her eyes with her hands, "Answers to what? A puzzle, a mystery, what!"

Bakura stared at her, "You were drinking." She shook with anger, "You said you'd stop!"

"I say a lot of things." She hoarsely coughed, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

After two years of biting her tongue, Bakura said it, "You're such a fuck up!"

Malikah angrily came down the stairs, ready to fight, "What!"

There was so much wrong with her it was hard to pick where to start.

She started with the least egregious, "You're out of control. Wild parties, frivolous spending, and god knows what else. You want to be poor! Or worse will happen with you bringing all those strangers into your home!"

"I'm having fun! Try it. Oh wait, you seem to be allergic to a good time." Malikah stormed into the living room, "I'm done with this!"

Bakura was not finished, she bustled after her, "Give up ready huh? Why, the truth hurts you too much!" She prodded.

"Stop following me or I'll show you what hurts!" The blonde kneeled at the chest in the corner and pulled out a fresh bottle of clear liquor.

"While you were so busy getting juiced, I had a nice chat with Kaiba. It seems like you failed to mention he's your husband!"

Malikah took a swig. With a sweet sigh of relief, "Only by law. That marriage meant nothing. We don't even see each other anymore." She stood up, meeting Bakura at the front of the room.

"You never told me anyway!"

"So what!" She looked at her sideways, "My marriage doesn't change our relationship."

Bakura was astounded at her naivety, "How doesn't it! You've lied to me every chance you had!"

"I have not!" She cried out.

"You're not even French. You're a liar. You've never even been to France."

The woman glowered, her pretty face in a tight knot, "Leave. I don't want to hear anymore."

Bakura could not even fathom how self centered she was, how callous she was, "You lied for two years. Not once did you try to tell me the truth. You've been leading me on lying to my bloody face!"

"I had to." She grumbled, obviously growing more impatient with being lectured.

"Why? To protect me or some shit! Come on! You knew exactly who I was when you met me! You seduced me, tricked me!"

Malikah panted, shaky on her feet, "I loved you! I love you now too!"

Bakura did not want to hear those beautiful lies, "You love yourself. No one but yourself. You use me to make yourself feel good. You're just a parasite who can't survive by themselves. A damn **monster**."

"LEAVE!" The woman screeched, making Bakura cover her ears. Malikah sat down, dizzy from her own outburst, "Jus' go on already. 'm jus' a phony, hn? Then go on. Leave me."

Her accent completely changed. Two years ago what Bakura heard beneath the French: the south. This was a whole new side of her. One that would have never emerged if not for this argument. It was only another thorn on the crown.

"How could you lie all this time?" Bakura whispered in a state of awe, "You called us partners but we were never equals. You're insufferable. As soon as I find myself liking you, I find myself hating you more. Right now, I just despise you and I don't think I'll ever stop."

The blonde lazily tilted her head to look at her, "Guess we ain't par'ners no more then."

"Guess not. Consider us strangers. No, even better enemies."

"Lemme tell you summin' before you up 'n leave like you always do when it gits tough. I'm not ta' blame for your…melancholy. The cause happened long before me so don't git ta cursing ma name over yo' deep seeded self loathing, mon ennemi."

Bakura scoffed, "I'll take that into consideration." She turned to leave, "Good luck dying alone. That's the only thing you seem to want."

And with that she left that cursed house. This time she would listen to her head and never trust Malikah Issar again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry kid, nothing personal.


End file.
